


Puppy and the Punk

by Lookafterlou1234



Category: One Direction
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, M/M, OT5, Sophiam, Ziall Horlik, i love it and hate it, idk Ziall took over my life, larry stylinson - Freeform, side larry - Freeform, ziall, ziall au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 171,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3110591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lookafterlou1234/pseuds/Lookafterlou1234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, time to recap. Zayn's two best friends weren't a thing, but they definitely were. His other best friend was the best human on the planet who could be extremely dirty with a pretty girl, if he wanted to be. And Zayn was lusting after a supposed kid. </p>
<p>Fan-fucking-tastic</p>
<p>Or the one where Zayn is a punk with a heart of gold and a love for drawing, and Niall is the new boy in school and really bad at football.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It's not that Zayn liked being alone. 

 

He just found himself that way, sometimes. Occasionally it was purposeful, and then occasionally it wasn't. Zayn had plenty of people who'd want to spend time with him: basically all the girls in his secondary school wanted to shag him, (and a lot of the boys too.) And they'd be willing to become friends with him first just for that to happen. But Zayn didn't like to form any kind of relationship that wasn't genuine. That's why he only had a few close friends, because he knew what they shared with each other was real. 

 

But it didn't help when all of your friends had significant others and you didn't. Like, he automatically became a fifth wheel whenever they all hung out. Liam had Sophia, a pretty brunette with a kind smile, so obviously she was with them all the time. Zayn liked her, no doubt about that, but she held all of Liam's attention whenever she was around. Which was always. 

 

His other two friends, Louis and Harry, had sorta always been flirty with each other. Seeing them snuggle was nothing new for either Liam and Zayn, but recently, their friendship had taken on a whole new aspect. As in We can't keep out tongues out of each other's throats but we won't make our relationship official. And it drove Zayn mental, because if he had to sit throughout that, they might as well be a proper couple, for Christ's sake. He'd privately always wanted them together, but not like this. Liam didn't notice, because most of the time, his tongue was down Sophia's throat. And Zayn just sat there and drew pictures in his sketch book. 

 

And sometimes, being the pariah became too much for Zayn, so he left. He could draw just as well on his own. Better even, because there were no snogging noises to distract him. And then eventually he stopped showing up to their "get together's." He went occasionally, but never as much as he had before. Because they weren't the same group they had been since their first year. They weren't Louis, Harry, Liam, and Zayn anymore, raising hell and having fun. In seventh year, they were Liam and Sophia, Louis and Harry (who had always been a unit anyway) and...Zayn and his pictures. 

 

So, that was now Zayn found himself smoking outside his school on Friday night, watching the football team practice on the pitch. They slogged through the muddy grass, laughing and whooping like they were having the time of their lives. Brilliant. Zayn took another drag of his cigarette and then stubbed it out, coughing. It was a filthy habit, he knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He liked the way it made his lungs burn and how the smoke fanned out all around his face. How everything went blurry and hazy around him for a few seconds, before it cleared again. It kinda summed up Zayn’s whole life, these past three months. In and out of focus. 

 

Zayn wasn't anywhere near as Gothic and moody as he appeared to be. But everybody gave him that image, so he had to live up to it. Outwardly, Zayn looked like a punk who wore a leather jacket, got drunk anytime he wanted, and got new tattoos every Saturday. He was stony and unapproachable, but that all made him sexier to people. He was "mysterious" and people wanted to crack his mystery. Well, fuck that. In reality, Zayn was just a boy who liked to draw and have pictures inked on his skin, to keep forever. He'd been drunk, yes, but it wasn't anything excessive. He still cried sometimes when he got tattoos, because it hurt, okay. Zayn wore glasses because he was nearsighted, he loved Harry Potter (Ravenclaw represent) and he had a stack of comic books that nobody could ever touch. On the inside, Zayn was a big nerd, not an enigma to be debunked. 

 

Nobody but his boys knew that, and it seemed like they were forgetting. 

 

Zayn sighed and grabbed his sketchbook, flipping it open and looking at all his drawings. Some were little caricatures of people, his favorite being one of cartoon Harry holding a banana. Other drawings were more in depth; a rose bud, Spiderman swinging through the air, a sneaky portrait of Liam that he hadn’t even known he was sitting for. 

 

Zayn smiled faintly and grazed his fingers over Liam’s drawn face, breathing in the familiar smell of paper and ink. He rummaged through his pockets for a charcoal pencil and leaned down on his knee, beginning to draw. He looked around for inspiration and decided that the full moon hanging above his head was good enough. The moon wasn’t quite as nice as the sun: Zayn found it too washed out and unsustainable. But it was nice all the same. Kinda like Zayn himself, he guessed. 

 

“No, no Liam.” Louis chided. “We need to mix the hydrochloric acid with the diluted water-”

 

This might sound like the origin story of a superhero, but really, it was just Chemistry class. Somehow the boys had all lucked out and been put in the same class period that year. And their teacher was a lady named Ms. Tissons. She was lovely, yet clueless. She never noticed anything that went on. The students could be making crystal meth, and she’d give them an A. And Zayn really wouldn’t put it past Louis to try and create drugs. Liam and Louis were squabbling over the acid, while Harry looked at Louis with longing in his eyes. He was practically melting. Zayn wanted to put him on ice. Maybe for seventy years, like Captain America. But he doubted even that would cool his feelings for Louis Tomlinson. And Zayn wished they would figure their shit out.

 

“Jesus Christ, Lou, you need to be wearing goggles!” Liam cried, elbowing Louis out of the way of the experiment. 

“And cover these baby blues?” Louis said jokingly, batting his eyes at Liam. “Never! I’ll risk blindness!”  
Zayn stifled a laugh and tried to look busy as Ms. Tissons wandered over. She gave Zayn a small smile and reddened, tucking a piece of blonde hair behind her ear before scurrying away. Harry elbowed Zayn in the side, teasing him by saying, 

“Look like somebody’s got the hots for you, Malik.” 

“As if.” Zayn scoffed. “She’s like-twenty something. And probably married. Or engaged. Or maybe she’s got several devoted cats.” 

“I’d go with the last option.” Louis jumped in. “Judging by the god-awful sweater she's sporting today. But hey! Maybe you could change that. We all know you have a thing for blondes.” 

Zayn rolled his eyes. He’d had exactly one relationship through all of secondary school: a two month fling when he was fifteen with a girl named Perrie. Who was, unsurprisingly, blonde. They’d broken up over something stupid, Zayn couldn’t really remember what,. And shortly after, Zayn came out as gay, so maybe the relationship had to happen for him to realize he wasn’t straight. 

“We are not having this conversation.” Zayn muttered as the teacher drew nearer again. “We are not.”

“She probably thinks you have great chemistry.” Harry said lowly and everyone groaned. 

“That was terrible, Hazza.” Louis said, not bothering to keep his voice quiet. “It’s more like she wants him to bend her over the lab table-”

“For Christ’s sake-” Zayn huffed as the ending bell rang and he bolted out of there. 

 

But sometimes, his friends were absolutely unavoidable. They came bounding after him at the end of the day, likes animals after their mother. Zayn was walking home on the footpath, his jacket hood up to cover him from the rain. Louis reached up and tugged the hood down, messing up Zayn’s quiff. 

“Zaynie.” he half-sang. “We’re hanging out tonight. All four of us.”

Zayn tried his damnest to keep from smiling. It was like these boys could read his mind. They knew he felt lonely. Or maybe it was just Louis. He would joke around and act a fool nine times out of ten, but then he’d be considerate and sweet once, and that made being his friend worth it. 

“What are we going to do, then?” Harry asked, linking Zayn’s arm with his. He was warm against Zayn’s side, like a puppy or kitten or something. 

“I don’t care.” Zayn said, trying to sound nonchalant. “We could go to the park?”

Which was code for, drink alcohol and make fun of everyone who passed by. 

 

So that’s what the boys did. They got a ratty blanket from Louis’ car and went to the liquor store and got beer. Louis went in with all their money (a combined total of ten quid) and he came back with far more beer than the money they’d given him warranted. 

“Louis, what did you do?" Liam asked warily. “How did you procure that much alcohol with ten quid?"

“A magician never reveals his secrets, Leeyum.” Louis replied impishly, tapping the side of his nose. Harry pouted, going over to Louis and resting his chin on his head. Zayn had to laugh at his jealousy. We don’t want to put a label on it, my ass. They gravitated towards each other like two planets. 

 

The group walked to the park a few streets away and Liam spread the blanket out on the wet grass, fussily making sure there was room for all of them. Zayn sat cross-legged on the right corner, with Liam opposite him. Louis sat in the centre, which seemed to say a lot about his personality, and Harry lay diagonally across the blanket, his head on Louis’ lap. Louis was fiddling with his hair, running his hands through the brown curls. God, they were disgusting. Zayn took a swig of his beer. 

 

“Okay boys,” Louis said. “Let’s begin. Pick a stranger, and make up a story for them.” 

 

This was one of their favorite games. Louis had started it, of course. In first year, they all ended up at the same lunch table, scared shitless by all the other students. And Louis had broken the ice by starting to make up ridiculous yarns about all the people around them. Stupid things like “that girl over there is the lost princess of Lala Land and the boy with her is her bodyguard but she’s also pregnant with his baby and it’ll be such a scandal.”

 

It was dumb, but it was what started their friendship with each other. And Zayn wouldn’t want it to change. 

 

“That one, over there.” Harry said softly. “The woman on her phone. Do her, Lou.”

“Well, Harry, let’s not get drastic.” he teased, tickling the other boy. Harry squeaked but made no attempt to leave Louis’ arms. Zayn gulped back more beer. New drinking game. Drink every time Louis and Harry act like a couple, when they’re not. 

 

Louis cleared his throat and said, 

“She’s a secret agent, over here from America. She used to be a naive farm girl, grew up milking cows and shearing sheep. But then, a man burst into her little farm with bullets flying. Her horse got shot and she vowed to take the killer down. This lead to a lifetime of intrigue and danger. Do you see the red of her coat? It’s there to disguise the shed blood of her enemies.” 

He had everyone laughing, which was Louis’ specialty. He grinned at their amusement, loving their reactions. Louis was a performer, in every sense of the word. Maybe he’d actually try out for the musical this year. Zayn had heard a rumor that they were doing Grease, and he could definitely see Louis as Danny Zuko. 

 

They sat there, on the October evening, just hanging out. It was probably one of the last nice days of the autumn, so they’d better enjoy it while it lasted. Louis continued to amuse them with his stories of the innocent bystanders of the park. Zayn was just laughing over his tale of two twin priests when a football nailed him in the side of the head. 

 

Zayn ended up on his back, staring at the cloudy sky, wondering exactly how he’d gotten there. A few seconds later, everyone else regained their wits and Liam helped him sit up. 

“You okay, mate?” he asked with concern. “That thing hit you pretty hard. And it came out of nowhere too.”

Liam looked around with a frown, wondering where the offending football had come from. And then a boy came bolting over, kneeling beside Zayn and holding his head with his two hands. 

“AreyouokayohmyfeckinggodI’msorryIdidn’tmeantohityoujesuschristpleasebeokay.” the boy babbled, a thick Irish accent making him almost unintelligable. 

Zayn blinked at him a few times, locked in a bright blue gaze. All he could see was ruddy cheeks and crooked teeth and shining blonde hair and freckles. So many freckles. 

“I- uh- I’m-well- I think your football is over there?” Zayn managed to say. The boy was still very in Zayn’s personal bubble, and if he didn’t move soon, Zayn was pretty sure he’d combust. Because whoever this was, he smelled amazing. Like grass and fresh rain and sweat and boy. And accents killed Zayn. Speak in any accent to Zayn Malik, and he’d probably propose on the spot. Or jump into bed. Whichever opportunity presented itself first, really. 

 

The boy bit his lip, his face all scrunched together. A blush was spreading across his cheeks, starting from his neck and going up. Zayn couldn’t stop staring. Why couldn’t Zayn stop staring? This mythical creature dropped his hands from Zayn’s head and scrambled away from him, reddening more with every second. Louis, Liam, and Harry were all staring at them in confusion. 

“Right, I’m gonna- I’m gonna go now.” Irish McIrish said. “I hope your head’s alright, and that maybe you’ll get amnesia for five minutes and forget this ever happened.” 

And with that, he was gone again, as quickly as he’d come. He ran away on skinny legs, almost tripping over his neon orange football trainers. And as he left, the rest of them burst out laughing. 

“Well, Zayn,” Louis chortled. “He’s either a secret admirer desperate for your attention, or a sniper with a major guilt complex. But he looks about twelve years old, so I’m not sure which prospect is more unsettling.” 

Zayn stared after the boy long after he’d disappeared from view. He felt disoriented, like he’d been plunged into ice cold water. Bright blue water. Zayn shook his head, trying to clear it. 

 

No. That wasn’t happening. Zayn was not attracted to a boy who could potentially be six whole years younger than him, judging by what Louis had said. Zayn wasn’t blushing like a schoolgirl over a mouth that needed braces and clearly peroxide dyed blonde hair and knobbly knees and rosy cheeks. He wasn’t, he wasn’t, he wasn’t. 

 

Zayn managed to successfully convince himself of that until he was getting ready for bed that night. Because everytime he shut his eyes, all he could see was that fucking boy. Zayn could see that gorgeous Irish boy, kneeling beside him on the grass of the park. Zayn wanted to kiss him all over his stupid face, and he didn’t even know his name. 

 

Fuck. Fuck it all. Zayn was fucked. He was going to jail over lusting over a child. Zayn was eighteen, for the love of God. He should be into hot university guys, who lived on their own and went to parties and got high and drank themselves into oblivion. But no, of fucking course no, Zayn had to crazily attracted to a child. 

 

But seriously, after a meet cue like that, was there any chance for him at all? It almost wasn’t fair. 

“Stupid Irish boy, with his stupid blonde hair, and his stupid pretty blue eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Zayn muttered, shoving his head under his pillow and trying to block everything out. 

 

Okay, time to recap. Zayn's two best friends weren't a thing, but they definitely were. His other best friend was the best human on the planet who could be extremely dirty with a pretty girl, if he wanted to be. And Zayn was lusting after a supposed kid. 

Fan-fucking-tastic


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was some really awesome feedback for this fic so I decided to keep going! Here's to two chapters in one day :) Hope you enjoy, and leave a comment if you wanna cry over Ziall with me.

The following Monday morning, Zayn moped through school even more than usual. On a scale from 1 to miserable, he was a strong 9.4. He sat in the student area, leaning back on a sofa. Louis and Harry were crammed into one chair, sharing a hot chocolate. Liam was sitting there, texting Sophia, who went to an all girl’s school across town. Zayn’s sketchbook was in his hand, and he itched to open it. He always felt more comfortable when it was open. It gave him an out, an escape. At the very least, something to do to pass the time.

 

Zayn had just opened it when Ms. Tissons came into the student centre. She looked around her, seeming frantic. Her blonde hair was a flyaway and the buttons of her sweater were all mismatched and crooked. Despite the funny image, Zayn felt sorry for her. She normally always looked put-together, so something must’ve gone wrong for her this morning. 

“Students,” she said feebly, her voice small. “Would anyone be willing to help me out today?”

Nobody answered her, and the teacher hung her head, tugging at the ends of her hair. She looked so forlorn. Like a teddy bear that’d be forgotten by a child. 

 

Zayn seriously needed to stop comparing people in his life to small animals. 

 

He shut his eyes and blew out a breath, standing up. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and slouched over to his Chemistry teacher. He stood by her side and cleared his throat awkwardly. The woman’s head snapped up and she jumped, clutching a hand to her heart. 

“Oh goodness, Zayn!” she gasped. “You gave me a shock.” 

“I’m sorry.” he offered. “I thought you needed some help but-”

“I do!” she said hurriedly. “I really do.”

Ms. Tissons took a breath and continued,

“There’s a new student here today, and he’s in your year. As the moderator of the seventh form, I was meant to find a student that he could follow around for a day or two, just to get on his feet at the school. His schedule isn’t even set yet, so it wouldn’t be any problem for him going to all your classes with you. And I feel like a dunce for not getting this organized sooner, but it completely slipped my mind and then this morning, my cat got sick so I had to take her to the vet and I still haven't heard how she is. And the poor boy is sitting in the office, waiting for his guide that I promised would be right there and-”

 

Zayn felt like diving out the open window and not coming back. He really hadn’t foreseen that outcome happening. He’d thought she’d needed help with hanging some posters or something. Being around a stranger for the entire school day was not something he needed. But he’d already offered his help, and this poor woman’s cat might be dying and she used words like “dunce,” and Zayn was too nice a person for his own good. 

“I’ll do it.” Zayn said with a tight smile. “Not a problem at all.”

“Thank you, Zayn.” she said, breathing a sigh of relief. She smiled back at him and then turned around, striding away in her sensible pumps. Zayn sighed again and left the student centre, going to find his new charge. 

 

The boy sauntered through the halls of the school, taking his time. The bell for homeroom wasn’t going to ring soon, so he didn’t need to rush. He put his sketchbook back into his bag as he walked. Whoever this kid was, he wasn’t getting to see Zayn’s personal drawings. It’d taken him years to show the boys, and even now he wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. Zayn went to the main office and knocked on the door before stepping inside. The secretary gave him a sunny smile from behind her desk, fiddling with her glasses. 

“Hello, Zayn.” she said cheerily. “Anything you need?”

“Uh, yeah.” he replied. “Ms. Tissons sent me here to pick up a new student? I’m supposed to guide him through his first couple days of school here.” 

“That’d be me, I think.” a voice off to the left said. Zayn turned and followed the sound. And as he looked, his heart almost stopped. 

 

Because, of course, it was that boy from the park. He recognized Zayn the second after Zayn recognized him, and those damn blue eyes widened in shock. They stared at each other for a few moments before Zayn spoke. 

“Right then,” he said, his voice higher than normal. “We should probably get moving.” 

The new bane of Zayn’s existence nodded hurriedly and stood up, gathering his belongings. Zayn moved forward, trying not to start screaming as the boy scurried after him. They walked side by side out of the office into the hallways of the school. At 6’2, Zayn towered this guy by at least five inches. There was no way they were the same age. No way at all. This kid had to be some child genius. Or maybe he was just small for his age, but Zayn was pretty sure it was the former. 

 

Zayn glanced at him, and fuck. He looked too cute in his school uniform. His tie was crooked on his neck and his shirt was untucked and the toes of his shoes were already scuffed. His blonde hair was sticking out in every direction, like he’d ran his hands through it too many times. Probably from nerves. The boy looked up at Zayn in that moment and gave him a tense smile, showing off those teeth again. 

“I’m really sorry about what happened in the park.” he started, his voice hesitant. “I know it might seem like I was aiming for you, but honestly, I wasn’t. I’m just absolute shite at football, is all. My dad only had me at that fecking park to try and make some friends before I started school.” 

 

He said all of this very fast, his thick Irish accent almost making it impossible to understand him. Zayn wanted him to repeat it all, slowly, just so he could hear his voice again. He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. 

“It’s no problem, mate. It didn’t hurt.” 

He gave an audible exhale, smiling even wider. 

‘Good. I wouldn’t want to hurt you at all.”

The walked in silence for a little while until the Irish boy’s voice burst forward again. 

“I feel like you should know my name, if we’re gonna be together for the next couple days. And I already know your name, it’s Zayn, which is a deadly name by the way, but you don’t know mine-”

“What’s your name?” Zayn said, struggling not to grin. He was utterly adorable. 

“It’s Niall Horan.”

 

Jesus Christ. He was like a leprechaun come from the Emerald Isle, with the sole purpose of ruining Zayn's life. Zayn swallowed down his protestations at the universe and said, 

“Good name.” 

Niall gave him a full-on beam then and Zayn was nearly blown backwards by the utter brilliance of his smile. His eyes crinkled together until they were little less than slits, his nose scrunched up, and dimples appeared in the grooves of his cheeks. Zayn couldn’t stop herself from staring. If that was what Niall’s full-on smile was like, would Zayn be able to survive his laugh? 

 

Zayn doubted it, somehow. 

 

They’d reached Zayn’s first class, English. But before they went inside, Zayn grabbed his shoulder and held him back from going in. Niall whirled around, looking up at Zayn with wide eyes. 

“Your tie-and your shirt-” Zayn offered and Niall blushed, tucking his shirt into his pants hastily. But then he reached the tie and his hands stalled. 

“I couldn’t figure this out.” he said quietly. “This is my first time with a school uniform that has a tie-”

Zayn reached forward and untucked the tie from Niall’s collar. He straightened it out and then made it the appropriate length for his neck. His hand brushed Niall’s chin and the boy squirmed away, smiling again. 

 

Niall Horan was ticklish, and Zayn Malik wanted to die. 

 

“You’ve got cold hands.”

“You’ve got a warm chin.” Zayn countered, finally giving in to the smile spreading across his face. Niall grinned back at him, his eyes shining. 

"Well, it's just because I'm so hot." he said with a wink. "I come from like- the rainiest country on the planet. I've got to supply my own heat." 

Zayn was severely tempted to slam his head into the nearest wall. But instead, he rushed into the classroom and tugged Niall inside seconds before the bell rang. 

 

"So, it's Niall, right?" Harry drawled during lunch. The boys had been sitting at their usual table when Zayn arrived with Niall in tow. They'd made room for them both, so now he was wedged in between Zayn (because Niall didn't seem to want to leave his side) and Harry. The curly haired boy was trying to get Niall to tell about himself. 

"Yeah, Niall's me name." he said as he almost swallowed a hot dog whole. Zayn was amazed at how this boy could pack away food. They'd been at lunch for five minutes, and Niall had eaten a majority of his lunch (which he'd even brown bagged, bless him.) 

"Does that have any, like, meaning?" Harry continued, pressing for more information. Zayn knew he was just trying to make Niall feel welcome, but really? Did it have to be Twenty Questions? 

"Mean's 'Champion' in Irish." he replied. "Like knights in shining armor, that kind of shite. My mum picked it." 

 

Zayn choked on the piece of apple in his mouth. Because the mental image of Niall, sitting astride a white steed, in shining armor was the last thing he needed. But honestly, Zayn thought he was more of a damsel in distress. Not that it made the situation any better, since Zayn was still choking on fruit. Niall turned and thumped him on the back. 

"You alright there, mate? Here, drink of my water. It went down the wrong pipe, did it?" 

Zayn managed to nod, and Niall pushed his water bottle into his hands. Zayn raised it to his mouth and gulped some back, while Niall patted him on the back comfortingly. 

 

Okay, so maybe Zayn was the damsel in distress in this particular situation. 

 

"How old are you, Niall?" Liam asked curiously. "Like, no offense man, but you don't look like you're really in seventh class." 

"I'm not supposed to be. I just turned seventeen in September, and I was meant to be starting my Transition Year. But the Irish school system is different from the English one. So, when I moved, I wound up in Seventh, but I'm not complaining! It's one less year of school for me!" 

 

Oh, thank fuck. Niall was seventeen, just a year and a half less than Zayn. He officially wasn't lusting over a child genius. Good. That's good. Granted, Niall had literally just turned seventeen last month, but still. Zayn wasn't going to be convicted. 

"I think you'll really like it here, Niall." Liam said warmly. "And we'll all be more than happy to show you the ropes of the place." 

"Well thanks mate! Zaynie here has been absolute shit so far, to be honest with ya." 

Zayn stared at him, offended. He thought he'd been doing a great job as a guide! He ignored how fast his heart was beating at the sudden nickname. Zaynie. Normally, somebody being so familar with him so quickly would piss Zayn off, but he couldn't find it in himself to care much. 

 

Niall blinked back at him and then gave a shit-eating grin, his eyes crinkling together. 

"I'm only messin'. You've been great, petal." 

 

Louis burst out laughing at then, followed quickly by Harry and Liam. Zayn grinned foolishly and Niall looked around, his own smile threatening to split his face in two. Louis chortled again, reaching to throw his arm around Niall. 

"We'll keep you around, you wee leprecuan." He said in a god-awful Irish accent. Niall looked at him for a few seconds and then started to laugh. 

 

But Niall's laugh wasn't a mere laugh: it was an expression of complete and utter joy. He threw his head back, his body shaking from how funny he thought Louis' joke had been. His mouth was open so wide, Zayn was pretty sure he glimpsed his tonsils. He looked so, so happy. Niall's laugh was almost stereotypical, the perfect ahahahaha. Niall rocked back in his seat, wrapping his arms around his stomach. He almost fell off the bench because he literally couldn't control himself. 

 

Zayn acted on instinct. He lunged to the right and grabbed Niall by the waist, holding him up. Niall buried his face in Zayn's neck, still convulsing. He gripped Zayn by the shoulders, saying something through his laughter. 

"Wee leprecuan." he giggled. He still wasn't letting go of Zayn, and the British boy was painfully aware of how close they were. He could feel Niall's pulse against his neck and he could smell whatever cologne he used and Christ, Niall smelled good. His blonde hair was brushing Zayn's chin and Zayn would never have guessed how soft it was. He felt a crazy urge to run his hands through it, but managed to fight it. And Niall was still laughing. 

 

In that moment, Zayn knew what his favorite sound was. He didn't want Niall's laughter to end, and he knew that as soon as it did, he would want it to start up again. But mostly, Zayn wanted to be the one to make Niall laugh next, because it was such a beautiful thing. As he looked down at Niall's smiling face, Zayn had never wanted to draw someone so badly in his life. 

 

If Zayn could mark the second of his complete downfall to Niall Horan, it'd have to be the first time he heard him laugh. Because right then, he just...he just knew. 

This boy is going to break my heart someday.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter isn't as long, and it's mainly to move the plot somewhat forward XD but then the next two chapters are super long, so I hope that sorta makes up for it. Tell me if you enjoy!

Honestly, after a display like that, it didn't take the other boys long to call Zayn out. 

They were all crammed in Louis' bedroom on a rainy Saturday morning, playing video games. Actually, Harry was getting thrashed by Louis in FIFA, Liam was mediating, and Zayn was watching for his own amusement. Harry was getting more and more frustrated by his constant failure. Eventually, he paused the game, flinging his controller down.   
"Louis, cover your eyes while we play. Because that is the only possible way I'll score on you."   
If it was anyone else, Louis would've told them to piss off and continued weakening their self confidence. But because it was Harry, and Louis was whipped, he compliantly had Liam place his palms over his eyes as Harry unpaused that game. 

A few moments later, the pixelated crowd in the game all cheered and Harry sighed heavily.   
"You just scored. Without your vision."   
"It's okay babe." Louis said, standing up to turn the Playstation off. He walked back over to the bed where they were all piled and wormed his way in so he was sitting next to Zayn. Liam and Harry turned to look at him too and suddenly this didn't feel a friendly video game session. It felt like more of an intervention,   
"So, Malik." Louis began. "We've gathered here today to address something with you."   
Zayn's eyebrows wrinkled together, wondering what was coming. It could be anything, really. Like his constant cigarette use (Which he knew that Liam was harshly against.) Or how the Year Four girls had been following him around in the halls. Or even how he needed to start thinking about submitting some art pieces to art schools, which his friends shouldn't even know about. But really, Zayn didn't doubt that they somehow did. 

"What's up guys?" he asked hesitantly, wondering what bombshell was going to be dropped in his lap now.   
"We've noticed that you have a certain- affection- for a certain fellow." Louis began. "He's small, vaguely bunny-like, with a dye job that's fading out-"   
Zayn blushed, his tan cheeks turning rosy pink. He knew exactly what and who Louis was talking about. He shook his head hurriedly, looking at all his friends' expectant faces.   
"No, no guys, it's not like that with Niall. We've officially known each other for six days and like- he- I don't, I don't have any kind of affection for him." 

Harry beamed at him, his ridiculous dimples burrowing into his cheeks.   
"What?" Zayn asked defensively.   
"Well, denial automatically means that you do like him. That's like- Crushes 101."   
"Wow, Harry, so does denying that you're in a relationship automatically mean you're actually in a relationship?" Zayn replied. "What a concept!"   
Harry just rolled his eyes at him, but it didn't escape Zayn's notice that his eyes flicked towards Louis. Liam patted Zayn's back comfortingly, his warm brown eyes kind.   
"Zayn, it's okay if you like Niall. He seems like a great guy! Our real concern is, what are you going to do about it? We just don't want you to pine over him, you know?" 

Zayn didn't bother replying with Well, yeah that's what I actually planned on doing, because A). I'm pretty sure he's straight. And B). We just met and even though I've been smitten with him basically since his football hit me, I have no idea if he feels the same. 

Instead, he said,   
"What do you guys suggest I do about it? Go up to him, snog his face off, and just hope he doesn't punch me?"   
"No, that plan has zero finesse." Louis said, covering his face with his hands. "I have devised something much better."   
"Do tell." Zayn said tiredly. Louis pulled his hands away from his face and grinned wickedly, his blue eyes mischevious.   
"My far superior plan is called Operation Leprecuan. And I'll be damned if it doesn't result in you and Niall falling in love."   
"Because Operation Leprecuan isn't conspicuous at all." Zayn said with a shrug of his shoulders.  
"With Niall being like, the only Irish person in our school and all."   
"Details, details." Louis answered with a flippant toss of his hand. "Now, here's the plan-"

As it turned out, Louis had actually put a lot of thought into Operation Leprecuan. It had multiple steps, so much so that Zayn was starting to get them mixed up in his head. At this point, Harry grabbed a piece of paper from Louis' cluttered desk and wrote them down. 

Step 1: Determine Niall's sexuality   
-Not forcing him out of any closet he may or may not be in   
-If he's straight, none of the rest of these steps apply 

Step 2: Invite Niall to hang out with us and then slowly initiate him into our friend group   
-If he's an arse, we remove him immediately because he wouldn't deserve to be with Zayn anyway

Step 3: Zayn woos Niall with something sloppily romantic  
-If Louis pukes from nauseating cuteness, he is not to be blamed. 

Step 4: ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE BA DA DA DA 

Zayn bit back a smile at the list in his hands, shaking his head. His friends were sitting in a row in front of him, with varying expressions on their faces. Louis looked ecstatic, Harry looked chipper, Liam looked sorta doubtful but also hopeful. And Zayn?

Zayn looked over in the mirror on Louis' wall and stifled a laugh at his reflection. Because he looked in over his head.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long chapter XD have fun! Please give me feedback on it, I worked hard :)

The following Monday, Zayn stayed late after school. He went to his locker and got all his art supplies, heading towards the art room. He trudged through the halls with his head down. The school seemed eerily quiet with no students in it. In fact, Zayn's whole day had seemed eerily quiet, but that was probably because Niall wasn't with him. 

All of last week, Niall had been in all of Zayn's classes with him. They'd talked constantly in class and out of it, so Zayn guessed he'd gotten used to the constant chatter. Niall had been given his official school schedule over the weekend, and the only class periods he had with Zayn were lunch and, funnily enough, Chemistry. So it's not like he didn't get to see Niall all day, but it was significantly less than he had been seeing him. 

Zayn just missed having Niall around, he guessed. 

He sighed as he laid his supplies out on the table, trying to focus on his art. His art teacher, Miss. Waverly, was getting more and more insistent that Zayn complied a portfolio for art schools. She swore that he'd get in, despite his own doubts.  
"You have real talent, Malik." she had said the last time he'd seen her. "But it won't get you anywhere unless you put yourself out there."  
That was easy for Miss. Waverly to say though. She had been part of the "art scene" almost all her life, by starting street graffiti when she was fourteen. She just looked like a great artist too. She wore combat boots and skinny jeans to school, which was definitely against the teachers' dress code. Her hair was dyed bright red and in a pixie cut. She had a nose piercing, and tattoos winding up and down her arms. She didn't even try and hide them, which seemed unfair because Zayn had to hide his. He always had to keep his sweater on in school, because "tattoos are against school policy and just because you've flagrantly gone and covered yourself, doesn't mean you can flaunt them in this building." 

Once, about a year ago, it'd been boiling hot in the art room, and Zayn was all bundled up in his sweater. When Miss. Waverly asked why, he'd explained his situation and she'd laughed.  
"Bullshit, Malik. Bull-shit." she said. "They just don't want you expressing yourself, or being different. Tattoos are not against school policy, and even if they are, what are the faculty going to do about it? Drag you to the tattoo removal place and hold you underneath a laser?"  
He'd shrugged and Miss. Waverly grabbed his sleeve.  
"Listen kid, as long as you're in here, in the art room, you don't need to hide your ink. In fact, I wanna see every chance I can get." 

So since then, Zayn and Miss. Waverly had become great friends. They were as friendly as a teacher could be with a student, anyway. He came to the art room after school every couple days while she sat at her desk, grading projects. Occasionally, she'd tell him about her personal life: what drama was happening amongst the staff in school, a new guy she was dating, that sort of thing. Zayn never really gave much information about himself back, but he liked listening to her talk. 

Today though, Miss. Waverly wasn't there. She left a note on the art room door that read  
Hey Z, I figured you'd come around today, so I left the room unlocked. Sorry I couldn't stay, had some stuff to do (i.e. vandalism) Remember to lock up the room once you're done. Use whatever materials you want. 

Zayn hefted his bag higher on his shoulder and pushed the door open, stepping inside. He shut his eyes and breathed in the familar smell of paint, clay, ink, paper, and basically any other art supply he could think of. He set his bag down on a clear table and shrugged off his sweater, leaving it hanging on the back of a stool. He was still warm though, so he unbuttoned the dress shirt he wore and took it off, leaving him only in a white undershirt. 

Zayn cracked his knuckles and set to work. His newest project was clay based, so he grabbed a hunk and put it down on the table in front of him. He shoved his hands into it and molded it with his fingers, enjoying the feeling of the cool clay against his skin. He blew out a breath, feeling the tension in his shoulders ebb away. Art relaxed Zayn like nothing else. It reminded him of smoking, or getting high, or drinking. Something that soothed but also stimulated his mind. 

He'd been working diligently for half an hour when a knock came at the door. Zayn stilled, hanging his head. It was probably a janitor or something, come to yell at him for keeping the room open without a teacher. He sighed, grabbing a towel and wiping his hands. He hurriedly put his sweater back on, because it'd just be another infraction against him.Turning around, he walked toward the door and opened it as he shoved the towel in his back pocket. 

And then Zayn was met by a sweaty, breathless Niall, beaming at him like it was Christmas morning.  
"Zayn!" he exclaimed. "I hoped you'd be here! Louis said you might be, so I thought I'd give it a shot."  
Zayn put an arm around Niall's shoulders and guiding him inside the art room, looking around furtively. He shut the door behind them, hoping nobody would come and disturb them. Niall went and sat in the chair opposite Zayn's project, looking at it with curiosity.  
"What're you doing here, Niall?" Zayn asked to break the silence.  
"I was playing football with a guy named Josh from my English class." 

Zayn took in the familar neon orange trainers, along with Niall's red cheeks and sweaty hair. He felt a flash of jealousy spring up in his chest over Niall's friend. It shouldn't surprise him: Niall was like the friendliest person on the planet, no wonder he was making loads of friends already. He'd be the most popular guy in the school by November, Zayn would bet. 

"So, how'd you know I was in here?" Zayn asked with a small smile in Niall's direction as he took off his sweater again.  
"Oh, I bumped into Louis and Harry making out in the hallway, and I asked if you were with them and Lou said you're probably here and -Jesus, you have a lot of tattoos." 

Zayn noticed that Niall was staring at Zayn's bare arms, his eyes out on sticks. He laughed at little at the boy's wondering expression.  
"Yeah, I've got a couple." he said easily. "You've just never seen them, since I can't 'flaunt' them in school."  
"Did they not hurt, like, a lot?" Niall asked, biting his lip. Zayn shook his head, shrugging his shoulders.  
"Some hurt more than others. The first tattoo you get always hurts the most though, no matter where it is."  
Niall nodded, leaning closer to get a better look at Zayn's arms. He reached up, as if to touch Zayn's skin, but then pulled his hand back, blushing as he curled it into a fist.  
"Sorry." he stammered, reddening more as they made eye contact.  
"Go for it mate, it's not like you can wipe them away." Zayn said. 

Slowly, Niall's hand crept back up to gently graze Zayn's "ZAP!" tattoo with the tips of his fingers. Zayn turned his arm over so Niall could see the underside. Their palms brushed against one another and Zayn somehow managed to not hold his hand. The artist in Zayn couldn't help but admire the contrast in their skin tones: the tanned, smooth color of his arm compared to the pale, freckled color of Niall's. 

But then he moved away, sinking back down into his chair. Niall rested his chin on his arms, watching Zayn as he worked.  
"So, Louis and and Harry sent you here, eh?" he said with a wry grin. "Managed to stop kissing for five seconds straight?"  
"I'd say it's more like five seconds gay, Zayn." Niall said, straight faced. Zayn laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. Niall chuckled too, and again Zayn felt the odd euphoria of hearing him laugh.  
"What is the deal with them, though?" Niall asked suddenly. "Like- I don't get it. They both seem to want to be together, but they're not, at least not officially."  
"I wish I knew, Niall." Zayn said truthfully. "Like, they swear that they don't want to be exclusive, but if either one of them was caught kissing somebody else, heads would definitely roll." 

There was a lull of silence for a few moments, and Zayn saw his opportunity. Now could be a possible time to figure Niall out a bit. Operation Leprechaun was go. 

Zayn really needed new friends. 

"You're cool with it though, right?" he asked Niall, swirling the clay around in his hands.  
"Cool with what?" Niall asked, looking up at him underneath his eyelashes. He looked tired, black circles beneath his eyes. Zayn wanted to tuck him into bed. Maybe even Zayn's own.  
"With- with Lou and Harry. Their whole thing. Other couples like them. Or girl couples like them-"  
"Love's love to me." Niall said simply. 

Zayn could've kissed him right then. Because he was just so relieved. He hadn't realized how worried he'd been that Niall was homophobic. He'd been worried for Louis and Harry's sake, and for his own. Whatever Niall's sexuality, Zayn knew he wanted them to be friends, and he also knew that that couldn't happen if Niall wasn't accepting of who he was. 

"I guess you're cool with it too, right?" Niall asked, turning the question back on him. Zayn bit back a laugh and nodded his head. He knew what he had to do next. If he really wanted to get close to Niall, this was the step he needed to take.  
"I'd be a hypocrite if I wasn't cool with it, Niall." he said, looking the boy in the eyes. 

There it was, out in the open. Zayn studied Niall's expression closely, wanting to see any change there. But there was none. He didn't bat an eye. There was no surprise, or excitement, or even confusion in Niall's face, and Zayn didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. 

Niall reached over and pinched a bit of clay between his fingers, rolling it back and forth.  
"What're you making?" he asked, as if Zayn hadn't just told him something deeply personal. Zayn didn't feel offended though. Most likely, Niall had never experienced something like that and wasn't sure how to react. If this was how he wanted to proceed for now, Zayn would go with it.  
"Not really sure yet. I'm just kinda messing around."  
"I wish I was artistic like you." Niall said earnestly. "I think art is so cool. I'm not creative at all though."  
"I don't think that's true, Niall. People are just creative in different ways, that's all."  
"I suppose."  
"I've always thought that to be creative, you have to love what you're doing. So what's something you love?" 

Niall shook his head, smiling bashfully.  
"You'll laugh at me if I tell you."  
"Niall, I started to draw because I loved comic books, I have a stack of them underneath my bed that nobody can touch. I promise, I won't laugh."  
It hit Zayn that he'd just shared something with Niall that only three other people on the planet knew about. Part of him wondered if that was mental, but another part of him said "Piss off and listen to Niall." So that's what he did. 

"I love to sing." Niall admitted. "And to play guitar. I even write my own songs sometimes, but they're shitty." 

As if he couldn't get any more charming. Zayn was practically puking over how sweet this kid was. Niall looked up at him with a shy look on his face. He gave Niall a big smile, ignoring how fast his heart was beating.  
"That's sick, Niall!" he said enthusiastically.  
"Really?" he asked. "Like, you don't think it's ridiculous? I know I sound like a little kid who's like I'm gonna be famous when I grow up! but really, it's all I've ever wanted to do."  
"It's not even a little bit ridiculous." Zayn assured him. "And I think you should pursue it, if you really want it."  
"You don't even know if I'm any good."  
"I bet you're fantastic." 

Niall blushed again, and Zayn wished he had could mix his paints together to get the correct pink of his cheeks. Niall cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment, gathering some more clay in his hand and rolling it into a ball.  
"Can you teach me?" he asked suddenly. "Like, teach me something really simple. Or we could even do the thing kids do in primary school? Like put their handprint in it?"  
"Sure." Zayn said, standing up and moving to stand behind Niall. He leaned over and grabbed the clay, pulling it over to them. Zayn pick up Niall's hands, pressing them into the clay. He squirmed a little at the texture as Zayn and he smoothed out the clay until it was flat. 

"Okay, so just press your hand into the centre." Zayn instructed. "Make sure not to move it around too much."  
"Teach me your ways, Mr. Malik." Niall said sleepily, leaning back and resting his head against Zayn's abdomen. Zayn felt arousal surge through his body at that. Between Niall's proximity and the implied student/teacher relationship (cut him some slack, he's only human) Zayn was feeling very turned on. He wondered how he was going to get himself out of his situation before something very awkward happened. Niall removed his hands from the clay and rubbed the residue off with the towel. Zayn slid the clay creation off the table and stepped away from Niall, breathing an inaudible sigh of relief. He placed Niall's handprint down and grabbed a toothpick, inscribing N. H. in the corner.  
"There you go." He said, standing up. "It's all done. You can come pick it up tomorrow morning."  
"Deadly." Niall said, stifling a yawn behind his hand. "We should probably get out of here though, or else the janitors will lock us in."  
Zayn gathered his belongings and shoved them back into his bag. Niall waited for him at the door, scuffling his trainers back and forth across the floor tiles. He gave a small smile as Zayn walked towards him.  
"You just heading home now?" he asked as they went out of the school building together. It had gotten dark quickly, the sun a mere fiery red splash against the horizon. Zayn shrugged his jacket back on, and he noticed Niall watching his tattoos disappear.  
"Yeah, I've got a family dinner thing today." he said. "Every so often, my mum gets really sentimental and wants us all to eat together."  
"I see." Niall replied, bobbing his head up and down. Zayn saw that he was struggling to keep up with Zayn's stride, and he slowed his pace, matching Niall's shorter legs. “That sounds really nice. Wish I had something like that.”

Niall suddenly sounded sad, his eyes going down to look at his feet. Zayn wanted to incinerate himself for somehow ruining his happy mood and he scrambled to do damage control.  
"Are you doing anything tonight?"  
"Nah," Niall said with a shrug of his shoulders. "M'probably just gonna walk home and then watch a film with my dad or something." 

Zayn meant to say something along the lines of,  
“Oh, that’s cool! Tell your dad I say hi!” Or even, if he was trying to be funny “Is your poor mum not invited to these movie nights?” 

What Zayn did not expect to come out of his mouth was:  
“It’s way too dark and cold for you to be walking home by yourself! Let me give you a ride.”

This was uncharacteristic of Zayn for a few reasons. One, he’d let his other friends walk home in the dark too many times to count. He’d once allowed Louis to stroll home, in his boxers, hammered, in the middle of winter, simply because there was no stopping him. Two, Zayn himself had walked home alone in the dark. Their little English town asn’t scary. In fact, nothing ever happened. And three, normally Zayn wasn’t very protective over people unless he’d known them ages and they really meant something.

But Niall- he managed to be the exception to all of Zayn’s preset standards. For some reason, Zayn believed that if he let Niall walk home alone, he’d get mugged, then kidnapped, then beaten to death. And really, Zayn did not want Niall’s murder on his conscience. That was it, really. Zayn was just protecting his own state of mind. No other reason at all. 

At least, Zayn would keep telling himself that until he started to believe it. 

“That’s a really nice offer, Zayn, but I can’t take you up on it.” Niall said, shaking his head. “You’ve got places to be.”  
“It’s just dinner.” Zayn said insistently. “My parents won’t mind if I’m a bit late.”  
Niall just looked at him doubtfully, shrugging his shoulders. He kicked the asphalt with his trainer, scuffing the toe.  
“Let me drive you home, Niall.” Zayn said softly. “I don’t mind: hell, I offered!”  
“I just- I just don’t want to be a burden to you, Z.” Niall said, avoiding eye contact with him. “I hate feeling like that with people.”

Zayn’s heart almost broke at that. Who on earth had called Niall a burden? Who would make such a sweet, innocent soul feel bad about himself? And, most importantly, where could Zayn go to beat them senseless?  
“Well, I guess that decides it then.” Zayn said, nodding. Niall gave a small smile, hitching his backpack higher on his shoulders.  
“Thanks for understanding Zayn- what’re you doing put me the hell down.”

Zayn lunged forward and picked Niall up, throwing him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He slowly rose Niall up in the air, the other boy hanging on for dear life. Niall’s body was bowed over at the waist on top of Zayn’s shoulder and Zayn put an arm on his knees, keeping him in place.  
“Zayn Malik, put me back on the ground right now.” Niall said, his voice strained. Zayn could feel him talking against his back and he patted Niall on the back of his knee.  
“If this is the only way you’ll let me drive you home, then I’ll do it.”  
Zayn could feel Niall relaxing against his back, but he still gripped him as tight as a vice. Zayn had found a rhythm in his walk and they swayed slightly from side to side.  
“If you drop me, I’m suing.” Niall said, his voice still shaky.  
“Noted.”  
There was no chance of Zayn dropping Niall. He was even lighter than he looked. Zayn felt like he was carrying a sack of potatoes. And a small one, at that. Where did all that food Niall ate constantly go? Like, Niall didn’t work out, as far as Zayn knew, and he ate like a horse, but then he was all skin and bones.  
“You know, this could be called abduction. I’m a year younger than you, and you’re an adult and I’m not.”  
“But is it really abduction, though? If I’m bringing you to your own house?”  
Niall fell silent, grumbling something under his breath. Zayn laughed a little, knowing he’d won. Niall’s death grip on the back of Zayn’s sweater was loosening and Zayn heard him start to hum a song to himself. Zayn held his breath, hoping that maybe, if he was quiet enough. he’d get to hear Niall sing. 

Really, Zayn hadn’t been overly surprised that Niall was a musician. Zayn had noticed throughout their days spent together at school that Niall was constantly making music. He’d be tapping a beat out on his desk with pencils, or mimic his guitar cords in midair, or hum a tune that only he knew. Zayn had mistook these just as Niall’s mannerisms, but he now saw it for what it was: Niall was constantly practicing. And now, Zayn just hoped that one day, he’d be there at the right moment and get to listen to Niall’s voice. 

 

They reached Zayn’s parking spot and Zayn gently set Niall on his feet. He dusted himself off, looking ruffled. One of his cheeks was redder than the other, from where it’d been pressed against Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn wanted to cool it off with his mouth. Niall turned and looked at where Zayn’s vehicle was parked, clearly expecting to open a car door. 

And then Niall started to laugh nervously, running his hand through his hair and twisting the blonde locks around his fingers.  
“Zayn, I’m pretty sure you’re trying to kill me now.”

Ah. Zayn might’ve forgotten to mention to Niall that he drove a motorcycle. 

 

“I’m not getting onto this- this machine of death.” Niall said as Zayn stepped astride the bike and grabbed his helmet, strapping it around his head. Normally, he wouldn’t bother with one (Because he knew he was a good driver, and seriously, helmet hair? Zayn worked too hard on his quiff every morning for that.) But he was putting one on now because he had somebody else with him and he had to make it seem like he was somewhat responsible. 

Zayn said nothing, just grabbing the spare helmet he always kept on the handlebar and offering it to Niall. Niall just stared at him, his blue eyes wide and doe-like. He bit his lip, looking at the motorcycle again and then turning back to Zayn.  
“You’re sure it’s safe?”  
“I’m positive.”  
“Oh-okay.” Niall said tensely, clambering onto the bike behind Zayn and dutifully put his helmet on. He looked at Zayn hesitantly as he turned the ignition of the motorcycle on, his hands hovering by Zayn’s waist.  
“You’ll have to hang on, Niall.” Zayn said, grabbing Niall’s arms and wrapping them securely around his waist. Niall rested his chin on Zayn’s shoulder and Zayn could feel his body trembling slightly.  
“Don’t be scared.” Zayn said gently, turning his body so he could look into Niall’s eyes. They were practically nose to nose, Niall leaning up a bit. His mouth was slightly open and Zayn fought every urge he had to kiss him.  
“It’s just like riding a bike, Niall. A motorcycle is like...the electric guitar version of bicycles."  
Niall drew in a deep breath and nodded, holding onto Zayn tightly. Zayn kicked the kickstand up with his foot and they slowly rolled out of the school’s parking lot. 

They cruised through the streets of town, Niall hanging onto Zayn like a baby koala. Zayn was driving slower than he normally would, to not overwhelm Niall. They turned a corner, Niall burying his helmeted head into Zayn’s shoulder blades.  
“Niall,” Zayn called over the roar of the engine. “You need to tell me where you live.”  
The Irish boy shouted his address and Zayn nodded. He knew where he lived now; it was only a few streets away from Zayn’s own house, actually. 

It was a short drive, only about five or ten minutes. Zayn pulled up outside Niall’s house, turning the engine of the bike off. Niall scrambled off, a huge grin on his face. Zayn unclipped his helmet and hung it back on the handlebars, setting the bike on his stand and getting off.  
“I just rode a motorcycle for the first time today.” Niall said, unable to stop the smile growing on his face.  
“And?” Zayn asked.  
“Slightly terrifying. But also exhilarating, in a weird way.”

That’s kind of how I feel about you. Zayn added silently. Niall just smiled at him, the grooves in his cheeks so deep that Zayn thought he’d get lost in them. He looked soft, blurred around the edges, like Zayn’s charcoal portraits. He looked shiny, glowing in the light of the rising moon. He looked fragile, like an illusion that Zayn would shatter if he touched it. 

Without realizing what exactly he was doing, Zayn reached over and unclipped Niall’s helmet for him, taking it off his head. Zayn had always hated helmet hair, but of course, Niall managed to make it look cute. His blonde mop was stuck flat to his head. Slowly, Zayn reached up, touching Niall’s hair. He ran his fingers through it, unsticking it from his sweaty skin. It was still so, so soft. Zayn wanted to bury his face in it and breathe Niall in. 

Zayn tossed the helmet back in the general direction his his bike, still looking at Niall. His hand moved down to touch Niall’s cheek, and his skin was even softer than his hair, if that was possible. Niall shut his eyes and Zayn tousled his hair again, scratching his nails in circles through it.  
“Thank you for the ride home, petal.” Niall said sleepily. “Even if it was scary.”  
“You’re welcome, Niall.” he replied. 

Niall opened his arms, reaching for Zayn. He looked up at him hopefully, his blue eyes soft.  
“Can I have a hug goodbye?” he asked suddenly.  
Zayn gave a small start, wondering where that came from. Niall turned pink, clearing his throat.  
“It’s just- we’ve never hugged properly and I really, really like hugs- I’m a very huggy guy- I thought maybe that after today we’d reached that point but if we haven't or if you’re uncomfortable or-”  
Zayn swept Niall up in his arms, nuzzling his face into the crook of Niall’s neck. Niall stiffened in shock for a moment and then hugged Zayn back, letting out a little sigh. Niall leaned up on his toes, his face pressed against Zayn’s chest and Zayn held his breath, hoping Niall couldn’t feel his racing heart. 

Niall leaned back down, his arms dropping from Zayn and hanging at his sides. He gave a happy nod and Zayn returned it, walking back to his bike. He stepped back onto it as Niall walked up the footpath to his house, opening the door. Zayn got the motorcycle started and prepared to drive away when he heard Niall’s voice.  
“Petal, you better wear a helmet.” he called from his front door. “I’m not attending your funeral.”

Zayn clipped his helmet on and gave Niall one last wave before he drove away. And well, Zayn might’ve beamed like an idiot the entire drive home, but nobody would know, since the helmet concealed his entire face.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter woohoo! :D (There's some drug use in this chapter: I thought I'd let whoever reads this know incase if you're not comfortable with or offended by it)

On Saturday evening, Zayn was sketching in his living room. He drew a line, and then another, and then another, and then suddenly the lines looked like a jaw, and before he knew it, Zayn was drawing a face. He shaded the neck area and then went up to do the eyes. Round, heavy-lidded, with light lashes, framed by eyebrows that looked like upside down smiles. They weren’t frowns, because nothing about this face was sad. 

 

With a start that caused Zayn to drag his pencil right across the drawing, he realized he was drawing Niall. 

 

Zayn looked down at the paper, his eyebrows furrowing together. The sketch was extremely rough, really just a few lines and curves, but it was still distinctly Niall. Zayn had drawn him without knowing it. Zayn had drawn Niall from memory. 

 

He hadn’t been able to do that with his friends until after knowing them for a year or two. He hadn’t even been able to do that for his own mother, without having her sit for him a few times. 

 

And yet Niall had been so easy…

 

Zayn crumpled the paper in his fist and threw it as hard as he could across the room. Because Zayn wasn’t scared by much, but he was scared by that. 

 

Zayn sat in the living room in distempered silence, because now he couldn’t even draw without Niall fucking Horan infiltrating. Because it was so pointless, because Niall was probably straight, because he could even have a girlfriend already, because Zayn was totally infatuated and he’d never had trouble getting any boy or girl to like him before, because he couldn’t have the one he really wanted. 

 

Operation Leprechaun was stupid. Zayn should just accept that, and move on. He and Niall would remain friends, Niall would become one half of the cutest heterosexual couple in school, and Zayn would have countless meaningless hookups to stop the ache inside. Operation STD. 

 

As Zayn was planning his future of emotionless sex, the doorbell sounded. He sighed heavily, hanging his head. Standing up, he slouched over to the door, grumbling to himself about Girl Scouts and how he didn’t even like Thin Mints or whatever the hell they are, but Zayn’s parents had raised him to answer the goddamn door, so that’s what he would do. 

 

Zayn grabbed the door handle and tugged it toward him. And then he was met with a Niall Horan. 

 

Okay, so he was surrounded by Liam, Harry, and Louis, but Niall was in the centre. He was laughing with his head thrown back, his eyes brighter than the moon and his white neck exposed. And Zayn felt like his body was short circuiting, because Niall was beautiful. No wonder Zayn had been able to draw him so easily: anyone with any artistic flair could see how gorgeous he was. 

 

Zayn blinked at his friends for a few seconds before Louis’ voice knocks him out of it. 

“Zayn Malik!” he boomed, crossing the threshold of Zayn’s home and somehow ushering the rest of the boys inside. “Get dressed.” 

“I am dressed.” he protested feebly. 

“Into something half decent Z, nobody goes to a party in a ratty Batman t-shirt and jeans they’ve had since they were thirteen.”

Zayn stopped in his tracks, looking down in horror at what he was wearing. And oh god, Louis was right. Zayn looked like a bag lady and Niall was right there. He hadn’t even brushed his hair, because he had no plans for this evening until right now. 

“What- what party?”he stammered, shutting the door behind them and trying to catch up to Louis before he started a fire in Zayn’s house (it wouldn’t be the first time.)

“Niall’s friend, Josh, is having a party at his house tonight and Nialler here extended the invitation to all of us, because he still doesn’t know that many people.”

Zayn said nothing, glancing at Niall. He looked slightly nervous, his hands tucked deep in his pockets and his head bowed down to the ground. 

“So, we’re going so he’s not all alone, and he wanted you there too.” Louis finished, shrugging his shoulders. “And it starts in thirty minutes, and you’ve got to get ready. Go, go go!”

 

Zayn was hustled upstairs, grabbed by the arms by Louis and Harry and dragged up the steps to his room. They were followed by Liam, who looked apologetic for bringing them here, and finally by Niall, struggling to keep up. And then they were all in Zayn’s room. And, major panic time, Niall was in Zayn’s room. The bed was unmade, he had superhero and anime posters on his walls, and Niall was in Zayn’s bedroom. 

 

Louis sauntered over to Zayn’s closet, rifling through his clothes. Harry flung himself down on Zayn’s bed, pulling the duvet up over himself. Liam sat at the end of the bed, resting his chin on his hand. But Niall stayed standing, until Zayn grabbed the chair by his desk and wheeled it over to him. Niall smiled his thanks and sank down into it, resting his neck against the back. 

“Zayn, what look are we going for tonight?’ Louis called from deep within Zayn’s closet, his voice muffled by clothes. 

“I don’t know, Louis-” Zayn said with exasperation, dragging his hands down his face. “You kinda sprung this on me last minute-”

Louis threw a pair of black skinny jeans at Zayn, hitting him in the chest. 

‘Put those on.”

 

Zayn glanced around, feeling a blush creep up his neck. Sure, he'd changed in front of Liam, Harry and Louis plenty of times before. Zayn was fairly sure that once, when they'd all be marvelously high, he'd done a strip tease. But this...this was different. Niall was right there, staring down at the faded floorboards beneath his feet, looking anywhere but at Zayn. Louis' head popped out from the closet, his blue eyes wide. 

"We don't have much time! And all your shirts are basically pieces of fabric stitched loosely together because you insist on cutting them into tank tops. It's almost winter, Zaynie. Buy a sweater. But first, take off your pants." 

Zayn gritted his teeth together, pulling down his sweatpants and kicking them off as quickly as he could. He hurriedly put on the jeans, but getting into skinny jeans takes finnesse and requires a decent amount of time to plaster them to your legs. Zayn grabbed the waistband and jumped up and down a few times, getting the jeans up over his hips. 

"Christ on crutches, you're lucky you don't have an ass." Louis snorted as he came out of Zayn's closet, shirts in his hands. "It takes me about ten minutes to get in jeans." 

"And about ten seconds to get out of them, because Harry pulls them off for you, am I right?" Zayn snapped. He was angry at Louis. He was angry at him for putting him in this position, for putting Niall in this position. Zayn had spent so long trying to figure him out, and maybe he hadn't done a very good job as of yet, but he knew, at the very least, that Niall must've hated this. 

 

"Quite right, Zayn." Louis said back, not at all bothered. "And you're not going to a party with a bat emblazoned across your chest, so please, change your shirt." 

Zayn grabbed the first top he saw: a raggedy gray tank top that he's pretty sure has spray paint on it. He held it between his knees and grabbed the neck of the shirt he's wearing, tugging it up over his head and flinging it at Louis to catch. 

 

In his haste, Zayn dropped the shirt he was meant to be putting on. He leaned over at the waist and grabbed for it. And suddenly, he felt another pair of eyes watching him, causing goosebumps to erupt over his skin. Because his three friends had all already been watching, so that- that left Niall. 

 

Zayn glanced at him quickly, and he saw that Niall was staring at his chest, looking at all the other tattoos etched across it. He looked transfixed, he looked confused, he looked- he looked almost greedy. His eyes flitted up and down Zayn's form, hungrily taking in all the ink. He was biting down on the inside of his cheek, his eyes wide and the pupils dilated. Zayn quickly threw the tank top over his body, concealing himself. Really, it didn't conceal all that much, because it was low cut in the front and the back, and the sleeves were just holes that carried down to Zayn's ribs, but he didn't feel so out in the open anymore. 

 

"You're stunning, darling." Harry said, a grin evident in his voice. Zayn rolled his eyes, grabbing his wallet from his bedside table and shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. 

"Yeah, Z, you look awesome!" Liam said enthusiastically. 

"I'm not even gonna bother complimenting your outfit, because I picked it. That'd be like- a fashion designer complimenting their own work." 

" 'M pretty sure they do that, Boo-" Harry started to say, but Louis cut him off by turning to Niall and saying, 

"What'd ya think of my handiwork?" 

 

Niall looked at Zayn one more time, studying him seriously. Zayn felt like he was being ripped apart, like he was drowning in those eyes, like this boy was breaking his heart when he didn't even know he owned it yet. 

"You look good, Zayn." Niall said softly, so softly that they all almost missed it. Louis beamed but Zayn didn't change his expression. 

"C'mon, or we'll be late." he said gruffly, stepping out of the bedroom and not waiting for the others to follow him. 

 

They decided to walk to where ever the fuck this party is, probably so they could all get hammered and/or high without having a designated driver or, worst case scenario, calling one of their family members to pick them all up. (Again, it would not be the first time. Louis had been the designated driver a couple months ago, but he'd "forgotten" this fact. So Zayn had to call his older sister Doniya to come and get them. She'd been the opposite of happy.) 

 

That was not happening tonight, though. Even though Zayn had the opportunity of a very good night, he probably wouldn't take it, simply because he was too pissed off. Fuck Liam for letting Louis and Harry get away with their antics, fuck Harry for egging Louis on, because Zayn knows that Harry does have more sense, and fuck Louis in particular for making Zayn take off his clothes in front of Niall. They could all get smashed without him, and he'd walk home alone and leave them all there, in a house they didn't know, because fuck them. 

 

Well, not all of them. He'd find Niall and walk him home in whatever state of insobriety he was in, because Niall was currently the only person Zayn wasn't pissed at. Except now, Niall seemed off. He was striding forward on the footpath, ahead of them all, with his hands thrust deep in his pockets and his head bowed down. Zayn kicked a stone in the pathway, because now Niall was upset too, and honestly, could this night get any worse?

 

The stone nailed Louis right in the ankle and Zayn grinned, because fuck him. Louis turned and paused his walk, waiting for Zayn to catch up to him. Zayn automatically slowed his stride and Louis sighed heavily, walking back for him. 

"What's up, Z? Angry because we're making you interact with human beings that aren't the four of us?" 

"No." Zayn said shortly. 

"But you're upset with me for some reason, and I can't figure out why-"

"Oh yeah." Zayn said, laughing lightly. "I'm sure you can't figure out why. Even though you basically forced me to strip in front of Niall, and now he's weirded out because he's straight."

Louis chuckled lowly, shaking his head, and Zayn had never hit him before, but right then, he came pretty close. 

"What's so funny?" he asked between clenched teeth. "Please share." 

Louis beckoned Zayn closer, lowering his voice. Zayn sighed inwardly, moving in. There was no denying Louis Tomlinson, and anyway, this could potentially give Zayn a better angle for punching him in the fucking face. 

"Zaynie, you've forgotten step one. Determine Niall's sexuality? That was all part of that. And trust me, I have my doubts that he's completely straight. I would say bisexual, at the very least." 

"Why would you say that?" Zayn asked, running a hand through his hair to steady himself. 

Louis raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his mouth. 

"You didn't notice? Zayn, he couldn't take his eyes off you." 

 

The party was jam packed. The boys walked up the driveway, seeing couples lying in the grass and making out. Louis grinned wolfishly, sauntering over to go and disturb them. Zayn bolted over and linked their arms together, holding him back. For all Louis knew, those couples had spent months trying to express their feelings to each other, and tonight was a culmination of all that effort, and Zayn would be damned if he let Louis destroy that magical moment. 

 

Granted, they might just be drunk out of their minds, but Zayn refused to accept that reality. 

 

Niall paused at the front door of the house, looking up at the eaves of the porch. Everyone else had gone in, immersing themselves into the crowd of people. Zayn noticed that Niall wasn’t with them anymore. He paused, turning around and heading back outside. Niall was still out there, looking pale. Zayn stopped beside him, neither of them saying anything. 

 

Zayn reached into his jean’s pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He flipped the lid open, pulling one out. He looked at Niall and offered him the pack, and wasn’t surprised when he shook his head. 

“No, I don’t smoke.” Niall said. “But thanks though.”

Zayn nodded and light his cigarette, taking a long drag. He tipped his head back, letting the smoke blow slowly out of his mouth. He already felt more steady, the nicotine infiltrating his system and calming his nerves. Niall watched the smoke spiral up into the air, rubbing his neck with his hand. 

 

This silence wasn’t comfortable. It was heavy and oppressive, waiting to be broken. And because Niall seemed so nervous, Zayn figured he wouldn’t be the one to do it. So Zayn took another drag of his cigarette and then said, 

“You’re nervous?” 

Niall looked at Zayn sideways and then nodded. He smiled a little foolishly at himself, biting his bottom lip. 

“First proper party I’ve ever been to.” Niall began. “And I’ve never- I’ve never done anything. Like drugs, or- or alcohol or- or-”

Niall pointed at the couple lying in the grass, connected by the mouth as if they’d never be parted. 

“Or that.” he said, laughing slightly. “And I’m nervous, because I don’t want to do anything like that. Because- “

Niall paused, considering his next words. He drew a long breath, shaking his head once. Zayn didn’t know what he was denying, but he decided not to press the matter. 

“It’s my first party, and I’d like to remember it in the morning. And I just wish there was a way I could guarantee that I won’t have to do anything, but you always hear about peer pressure-”

Zayn smiled, because Niall’s innocence was so endearing. He was scared, and Zayn just wanted to protect him from all the dangers Niall saw. Or thought he saw. So, that’s what Zayn was going to do. 

“Niall, you don’t have to.” he said gently. “Just refuse. ‘No’ is all it takes. But Niall, if you can’t refuse, just stick by me. I’ll make sure nobody messes with you. I’ll be that guarantee.”

A slow smile spread its way across Niall’s face. He blinked up at Zayn, looking somewhat adoring. 

“You’d do that? Let a kid who’s younger than you and never been to a party before stick by your side all night? You don’t think I’d cramp your style?”

“I’ve got zero style, Nialler. If anything, you’d make this night better for me. Let’s go in.” he said, tipping his head toward the waiting door. Niall’s mouth twitched and he took a step forward. He moved ahead of Zayn and the other boy moved up behind him. He reached over Niall’s shoulder and turned the handle of the door, pushing it wide open. 

“Go on in.” he said encouragingly. Niall reached up and brushed his fingers lightly over the skin of Zayn’s wrist. Zayn could feel his pulse fluttering against Niall’s fingers, but he didn’t move away. 

“Okay, Z.” he whispered. “Let’s go in.”

 

Josh Whateverhisnameis’s house was filled to the absolute bursting. Zayn pushed a path through the teenagers, Niall clinging onto the back of his tank top. They turned a corner and found themselves in the living room, where people were encircled around a coffee table. And what Zayn saw on the coffee table really shouldn’t have surprised him, at this point. 

 

Louis was standing on that table, a red cup overflowing with beer in one hand and a karaoke mic clutched in the other. He took a gulp of his drink before handing it to an adoring girl standing by the edge of the table. 

“Alright babe,” he said cheerily, instructing her. “Put on ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’, and please, get Mr. Styles out here.”

 

Zayn was going to vomit. 

 

At the sound of his name, Harry popped out from the kitchen, looking bewildered. He glanced around a few times, and then saw Louis on the table, and damn, he looked like he’d just seen a heavenly angel. 

“Hazza!” Louis bellowed, a matching smile on his face. “Get on up here, I need a duet partner.”

Harry crossed the room in about three strides. He stepped up on the table until he was beside Louis, wrapping an arm around his waist. They swayed together to the same rhythm, Louis turning so they were hip to hip, chest to chest, nose to nose. They looked like one being, one body, one. 

“Don’t go breaking my heart.” Louis started, unable to keep the smile off his face. 

“I couldn’t if I tried.” Harry sang back, his dimples looking like caverns to the centre of the earth. 

 

Despite their varying levels of sobriety, Louis and Harry actually sounded really, really good together. Louis’ high, raspy tenor was nicely contrasted with Harry’s deep baritone. But it was really their chemistry that made it impossible to tear your eyes away from them. They were charismatic in how Louis planted a kiss on the corner of Harry's mouth when he sang “I gave you my key.” And in the way Harry’s hands stayed firmly gripping Louis’ hips, like Louis was so special that somebody would run off with him if Harry let go. And in the way that their eyes shone like stars every time they looked at each other. 

 

“They love each other.” Niall said softly at Zayn’s elbow. “I don’t know in what way, maybe they don’t even know, but they love each other in some way.” 

“Yeah, they do.” Zayn said, nodding fondly. “They really do.”

Suddenly, Harry tripped something on the coffee table, probably his own feet, and he fell towards the ground. The crowd surged forward to catch him, and Louis dove down after him, shouting,

“Hazza!”

 

And that’s how Louis and Harry found themselves crowd surfing. 

 

Niall laughed happily, and moved closer to them, reaching his hands to catch them for when they invariably came their way. Zayn reluctantly did the same, because he knew that Niall, little tiny Niall, wouldn’t be able to hold even Louis, who was roughly the same height and size as Niall, let alone Harry. 

 

As soon as the popstars reached them, somebody jostled Niall by tumbling into his back and he fell down to his knees. Louis managed to save himself, turning in midair as Niall dropped him and landing on his feet. But Harry, the far less graceful of the two, wasn’t so lucky. He landed right on top of Niall. Tall, hulking Harry landed on top of little, tiny Niall. 

 

The two left standing both acted on instinct. Louis went for Harry, Zayn went for Niall. Louis hooked his arms under Harry’s armpits, hauling him up. Zayn had it easier, because Niall weighed a feather and a half. He grabbed Niall by the waist with one arm, making sure everything was intact on him with the other. He frantically patted Niall on his head, his neck, his chest, making sure everything was okay. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked worriedly. “Niall, are you hurt?”

Niall didn’t respond and Zayn shook him slightly, getting more and more urgent. He noticed that Niall was shaking, and got even more panicked, but then he realized that Niall was laughing. 

“That was deadly!” he sputtered. “Can we do that again?”

Zayn laughed hopelessly and pulled him into a hug, not so discreetly pressing his face into Niall's hair. God, his shampoo smelled good. Like apples or something. Zayn wanted to get high off of it. 

"Well, that was fun." Louis said, brushing Harry off and straightening his rumpled shirt. "But I've got some weed in my pocket that is simply begging to be smoked, and really, this is too good of an opportunity to miss." 

 

To Zayn's surprise, Niall followed him, Louis, Liam, and Harry to the outside veranda. He would've assumed that Niall would leave at this point, considering that he didn't want to smoke or drink. But maybe Niall was still feeling vulnerable, and he wanted to stay with the people he knew, even if they were smoking. Zayn definitely wouldn't be the one to make him leave. 

 

The boys sat in a circle on the porch, Zayn making sure he was leaning against the house's wall. (When really high, Zayn could barely hold himself up. This was just a precaution). Louis pulled the doggie bag of weed out of his pocket and Zayn rolled his eyes. Being a very popular guy, Louis seemed to have an unending supply of drugs. It wouldn't surprise Zayn if somebody packed it for him, complete with a note on a napkin, telling him to have a good day. 

 

Louis expertly rolled a blunt between his fingers and then held his hand out to Zayn, clearly asking for a lighter. 

"What would you ever do if I didn't have one?" Zayn said, rummaging around in his pockets and pulling out his lighter, handing it to Louis. 

"Zayn, you smoke like a chimney." 

Louis lit the blunt and took a hit, then passing it to Harry. They'd done this before, and knew the drill. Louis gave the blunt to Harry, it moved to Liam, and then to Zayn. But tonight, Liam offered the blunt to Niall, who was sitting on Zayn's left side. Niall looked down at it, his face stricken, as if the drugs would bite him. 

 

Zayn reached forward and took the blunt from Liam's cold fingers, offering a smile. He brought it to his mouth and took a hit, tipping his head back. He held it in his mouth for a long moment before exhaling, watching the smoke fade away into the cold autumn air. He felt the effects already, his mind going blank and his limbs floppy. 

"Hazza, we should shot gun." Louis said slowly, reaching for Harry. Harry nodded eagerly, lumbering over to straddle Louis by the hips, their faces inches away from each other. 

"Ugh, you great big lump." Louis fake groaned. Harry's face fell automatically. 

"Hey, it's not my fault I grew more than you did." 

"Only teasin, darling." Louis replied affectionately, pinching Harry's cheek. 

 

Louis rolled another blunt and brought it to Harry's mouth, who then inhaled deeply. Harry lowered a hand down the side of Louis' face, stopping on his chest. He leaned forward until their lips were millimeters apart, opening his mouth and blowing the smoke into Louis'. 

 

It was almost sensual, watching them shotgun. Zayn had seen it before, of course, but it never stopped affecting him. They were just so- so easy with one another. Like one of them could simply move forward and the shotgun could become a kiss, just like that. No drama, no stress, no responsibilities. Just a kiss, because they love each other. If Zayn ever got the chance to draw Louis and Harry together, if they ever stayed still long enough for that, he'd want to draw them like that. So close to kissing that they could feel each other's heartbeats, but the smoke obscuring what they really wanted. 

 

"Zayn, you wanna try?"

Harry's voice suddenly sounded and Zayn blinked his eyes open. Harry was still sitting on Louis, but he was looking over at Zayn, his green eyes glassy. Maybe from excitement, but probably from the alcohol and drugs he'd consumed into his body. 

"You've never shotgunned with me or Louis, have you?"

Zayn shook his head slowly, his ears feeling muffled. He didn't really care about shot gunning, he didn't really care what happened next. He just wanted to keep lying here with Niall in his line of vision.

 

Niall looked beautiful right now, turned to the side. His profile was silhouetted by the light of the moon. He looked like a fairy or a pixie or- or- a Leprecuan! That was the right word. Zayn laughed suddenly, making everyone jump. Operation Leprecuan. So dumb. 

 

"Go on then, it'd good fun." Louis said. "Harry will do it with you; Just don't kiss him, H." 

"No fear, BooBear. Zayn is pretty, but he's not that pretty." 

 

Zayn raised himself up slightly as Harry clambered off Louis and came over to Zayn. Harry eased himself down on Zayn's lap, somehow arranging his long legs into a comfortable position. Louis passed him the blunt and Harry just held it, observing Zayn. He reached over and ran his fingers through Zayn's black hair, messing up his quiff. His hand trailed down to Zayn's chest, some of its warmth leeching into Zayn's cold skin. 

"Relax, Z. You're all tense." Harry admonished. "This is supposed to be fun, ya know." 

"Just- just do some drugs." Zayn said back. 

"Very eloquent, Zayn. You're the next Byron." 

"Shut up." 

 

Harry grinned wickedly and finally took a hit, holding it behind his teeth. He leaned forward, bumping his nose against Zayn's. Zayn compliantly opened his mouth and Harry let the smoke billow forward. Zayn felt it fill his lungs, making his eyes sting and his chest burn. He was hyper aware of every place Harry was touching him: the weight of him on Zayn's waist and the warmth of his hands, so close to touching Zayn's chest through his light tank top. 

 

Except, Zayn could still see Niall behind Harry's broad shoulder and he wasn't framed by the moon anymore. He was turned so he could watch, his eyes narrowed and focused on what he was seeing. Which was Zayn being manhandled by another boy. And it didn't take much for Zayn to imagine that it was Niall actually on top of him. Niall's hands creeping up Zayn's tank top and Niall's mouth so close to his and Niall's chest pressed flush to him. 

 

Zayn let his head hang down, cutting off the stream of smoke. Harry saw that he'd had enough and patted him clumsily on the back, unwinding his ridiculous legs from Zayn's body and heading back over to Louis. And Zayn was leaning against the side of the house, his legs splayed out flat. He's suddenly cold, the loss of Harry's body heat hitting him sharply. He hadn't been cold all night, even though he only wore a tank top the entire time, but now he was shivering like mad. Maybe because he was high. Everything was more sensitive. 

 

Zayn wrapped his arms around his torso, shaking as he dipped his head down into the neckline of his shirt. His hands felt like ice, so he sat on them to warm them up. Nothing he did really helped though: he was still freezing. 

 

Zayn was vainly trying to remember the synthoms of hypothermia he learned in Biology class two years ago when Niall stood up. He walked over to him, unbuttoning his jacket. Before Zayn knew what was happening, Niall had wrapped Zayn in his jacket, kneeling down so he could put Zayn's limp arms into the sleeves. Niall gave him a small smile, buttoning the jacket up to Zayn's neck. 

"What're you doing?" Zayn asked in confusion. To Zayn's drugged brain at the time, it didn't make sense that Niall was giving Zayn his jacket. Niall was skinny, Niall had no meat on his bones, Niall wasn't used to the cold English nights (Zayn temporarily forgot Ireland had the same climate). 

 

Niall would be cold without his jacket, and Zayn was wearing it, and that didn't make sense. 

 

"Take it back." Zayn said, suddenly urgent, his fingers fumbling to undo the buttons Niall had so diligently done. Niall's hands stalled his, holding them in place. He looked at Zayn, his eyes soft. 

"Wear it, petal." he said kindly. "You're frozen." 

 

The way he said it felt intimate. His voice was hushed, so not to disturb the others. When Niall got tired, his accent always got thicker. It was like he stopped controlling how he talked in order to not stick out among English people. He just let it go, and it sounded beautiful. Peh-tel. Fro-zin. There was emphasis on sounds Zayn wasn't used to, and it sounded almost sing-songy. 

 

How fitting that the boy who loves music sounds like a song. 

 

Slowly, everyone on the veranda filed out. Louis and Harry wandered off to go fuck in a closet or something, and Liam went somewhere, Zayn didn’t know where. So then it was just Zayn and Niall, sitting on the porch. Niall scooted over so he was sitting across from Zayn, sitting crosslegged so their knees touched. Niall rested his chin on his hand, looking at Zayn thoughtfully. 

“What’s up?” Zayn asked, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. He sat up a bit, but then Niall put a hand on his left knee, rubbing small circles through his jeans with his finger tips. 

“You’ve taken care of me tonight, Zayn.” he said. “Thank you for that.”

“I’m not gonna abandon you because I’m high, Niall.” Zayn said. “The night’s not over.”

“I think it is.” Niall replied. “I’m sleepy, you look very sleepy, and I’m gonna lay down beside you now, if that’s alright.”

 

Zayn couldn’t form the words to say how alright that sounded. He managed to nod and Niall crawled over to him, lying down beside him. His gentle hands touched Zayn’s hips, easing him down until he was stretched out on the floor of the porch. Zayn turned on his side and Niall did the same. They were looking at each other, their knees still touching. Niall smiled, and those crooked teeth glinted in the moonlight. 

“I’ve set an alarm on my phone to wake us up in two hours.” Niall said, reaching over and brushing Zayn’s hair off his forehead. “Sleep Zayn, and then we’ll go home. This party sorta sucks anyway.”

“You’re lying.” Zayn retorted softly, his speech getting slower. “You had the time of your goddamn life watching Louis and Harry being sickening, and then getting crushed by the tallest boy I know, and then watching me kill brain cells with my friends.”

 

Niall didn’t respond, and neither did Zayn. His eyes kept sliding shut, and eventually he just let himself drop off, Niall’s jacket keeping him warm. As he slipped into oblivion, he thought he heard Niall whisper,

“I haven’t had a night as good as this one in a long, long time.”

Zayn hoped that that part was just a dream. Because if anyone deserved the best of anything, it was Niall. But still, Zayn agreed with him: he hadn't had a night as good as this one in a long, long time either.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an absolute beast, which you'll either love me or hate me for XD Sorry it was oh longing coming, but it's midterm season at my school and I'm also in the musical so writing has kinda slowed a bit XD Enjoy! I'd love any feedback :3

The weeks passed rapidly after that. The last two weeks of November flew by, and before Zayn knew it, it was the last day before Christmas break. The day had been useless, essentially. Everyone was too hyped up on the prospect of vacation to concentrate on school work. But then the last bell had finally rung, and they were free to go.   
"At last!!!" Louis screeched as he shoved his belongings into his backpack in Chemistry class. "Three long weeks of freedom lie before us, boys! Anybody want to get high? I've got peppermint scented weed. Early Christmas present from somebody.”

Thank goodness Christ’s birthday was coming up, because Zayn was convinced they all needed Jesus. He wasn’t even Christian, and he needed Jesus.   
“I’m alright, Lou.” he declined as the boys walked out into the halls of the school together. Harry leapt on Louis’ back and was urging Liam to do the same, and Zayn rolled his eyes. He hoped they never changed: those crazy, wonderful boys he’d come to love like family and maybe more.

“You’re no fun, Zaynie.” Louis called from beneath the weight of Harry. Harry was so much taller than Louis that his feet practically skimmed the floor, but Louis was stronger than he looked, so he somehow managed to keep Harry aloft. “What’re are you gonna do then? If you’re snubbing my Christmas themed drugs?”  
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lou.” Zayn replied.   
“Alright.” Louis conceded, shifting Harry up higher onto his back. “Liam, I’m assuming you’re not up for it either?”  
“Nah, mate, It’s date night for me and Sophia.”  
Louis huffed out a long suffering sigh, hanging his head.   
“I’m being abandoned left and right.”  
“You’ve got me.” Harry said softly, leaning in over Louis’ shoulder and pressing a light kiss to the skin of Louis’ cheek. Louis proceeded to blush like a schoolgirl, and Zayn averted his eyes, giving them a tender moment of privacy. But as he turned his head away, he heard Harry whisper into Louis’ ear.   
“Forever.”

Zayn really hoped it stayed that way for them. 

They reached the doors of the school and then parted ways. Liam leaving to pick Sophia up and Louis and Harry going to do whatever they do when they’re alone.   
“Remember the real reason for the season, Malik.” Louis called back over his shoulder to Zayn as he and Harry walked away, hand in hand.   
“What would that be?”  
“Me, of course.”  
“Oh yes. December 24th is Louis Day.”  
“Damn right.”

 

Zayn laughed and then turned back into the school. He had been walking through the halls of school for about two minutes when he heard footsteps running up behind him. Tensing instinctively, he was hit with somebody jumping onto his back. Because Zayn couldn't just let whoever this was fall on the ground, he hurriedly reached behind himself and gripped their thighs, praying that it wasn't one of the random fourth year girls, or a teacher who went mental and decided now was a good time for a piggy back from a student, or Heaven help him, Niall that he was currently groping. 

"Zayn!!" a distinctly feminine voice boomed in his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck. "To the art room, my mighty steed!!!" 

Miss. Waverly. 

What the actual fucking fuck was Zayn's life. 

"Miss. W, are you okay?" Zayn asked nervously, afraid to put his teacher down in case she had suffered some severe head injury, but also afraid that somebody would come around the corner and see her long legs wrapped around Zayn's waist. Zayn might be the school's "bad boy" but he wasn't that bad. He wasn't even straight, for fuck's sake. Granted, Miss. Waverly was a very attractive human being, Zayn could see that and appreciate it, but he'd take the fit Business Law male teacher over her any day. 

Zayn would still pick Niall first ahead of anyone, but that was beside the point in that moment. 

“Art room, Malik!” she crowed, throwing her head back to the sky and actually nudging Zayn’s sides with her heels. “We haven’t been in there together for literal months, and I’m in dire need to make some art. I’m thinking paint today. Not spray paint, that’d be too simple. I need like- brushes and shit. I’ll be the next fucking Da Vinci if you’d just take me there already!”  
“Well, okay- but do you wanna get down first?”  
“No! I need you, my majestic unicorn!”  
So Zayn started walking again, wondering if Miss. Waverly had sampled some of Louis’ peppermint weed. 

They reached the art room without anyone spotted them. Miss. Waverly leapt off of Zayn and bounded around the room, gathering her materials. She hauled a canvas over to the centre of the room, pushing the tables students use for class out of the way.   
“Art, Zayn!” his teacher feverishly, seeing him just standing there. “I need paint! Yellow, to be specific. Yellow, like the sun, or stars, or pirate’s treasure.”  
“Miss. Waverly, it’s good you’re an artist, not a poet.” he said, finally cracking a smile as he helped her bring out trays of paint.   
“Shut up, I’m inspired!”

She dragged a canvas Zayn’s way too, shoving a paintbrush into his hand and nodding firmly.   
“Go on, paint me a masterpiece. We can put it in your portfolio for art schools.”  
“I can’t paint like this.” he protested feebly. “I’m not good at it-”  
“Don’t be a quitter, c’mon.”  
Zayn sighed but held the brush tighter in his hand, tilting his head and looking at the canvas before he added any actual color. Miss. Waverly had none of his reticence: she put her brush right into the paint and got going, beaming ecstatically as she splattered dashes of yellow everywhere. 

“So, what’s with all the yellow?” Zayn asked, trying to get a conversation started after a few minutes of silence and him not painting at all.   
“It’s not really yellow.” Miss. Waverly said. “It’s more blonde, really. Pretty, pretty blonde.”  
“What, you’ve got a thing for a blondes?” Zayn joked, remembering Louis’ words in Chemistry from October.   
“Not blondes.” she corrected. “One blonde in particular. “  
“Tell me about you one blonde, then.” Zayn said.   
“Well, this blonde is like the sweetest person on the planet. They’ve got great fashion sense and always look neat and put together. They’re smart, like- way smarter than us art junkies. And they’ve got this laugh- fuck Zayn, it kills me.”

Okay, so Zayn was in mini crisis mode. Just mini. If mini meant his heart was going to fucking explode in his chest, then yes, it was quite mini. 

“Miss. Waverly- you don’t mean Niall Horan, do you?” Zayn asked incredulously.   
“Who?” she asked blankly, pausing in her brushstrokes and pushing her fiery red bangs out of her eyes with the back of her free hand.   
“He’s a student here-”  
“Bloody fucking hell, Zayn, do I look like a pedophile?” she demanded to know, a crooked smile stretching across her face. “Fuck’s sake. It’s not a student. I’ve got some morals, believe it or not.”

Zyn gave a shake smile too, feeling relief flood through him. He had enough problems over Niall Horan of his own to handle: a student teacher relationship did not need to make that list.   
“Well, then who exactly is this blonde?” he asked curiously.   
“You’d have to kill me to get me to answer that one, Zayn.”  
“It’s not Miss. Tissons, the Chemistry teacher, is it?” Zayn said sarcastically, saying the first blonde's name who came to his mind. “That’d be something else.”

The sound of Miss. Waverly suddenly painting stopped, and Zayn glanced at her. And well, her face was answer enough, considering that her cheeks were as flaming red as her hair. 

“No.” Zayn said hollowly.   
“I’m as traumatized by it as you are-”  
“Miss. Waverly-”  
“I mean, I never thought a girl like her would be my type. All smart and classy and put together and whatnot-”  
“I didn’t know girls were your type, Miss. Waverly.” Zayn said.   
“The rainbow’s a ton of fucking colors, Zayn.” Miss. Waverly said with a shrug of her slim shoulders. “And my colors change a lot. I guess now- it’s just blonde.”  
Zayn caught her eye and he smiled, and then she did too, and that was that. 

“Do you think she knows?” Zayn asked next. Hearing about Miss. Waverly's life was fascinating. Zayn didn’t think that students ever really get out of the “wait my teachers have personal lives outside of school you mean they don’t sleep under their desks like vampires?” stage. It was like watching a sopa opera or something.   
“No.” Miss. Waverly snorted. “And she’s not going to, either. I do know that she’s single, her boyfriend broke up with her last month because he was allergic to her cat, but I don’t think she swings my way, so- I’m just gonna paint until it stops hurting.”

That- that sounded like a fantastic idea. 

Zayn picked up his brush again and reached over, dipping it into Miss. Waverly’s yellow paint. He guided the paintbrush back to the canvas, making a long stroke horizontally, near the top. Miss. Waverly followed the action with her eyes and then bit her lip, stifling a laugh.   
“You got a thing for one blonde in particular too, Z?”

Zayn said nothing, getting lost in his work. He got more paint, painting long lines and short dabs to form scruffy blonde hair. He then got some brown and mixed it in with the yellow, making the hair dirty blonde where the roots would be. He rinsed his brush off in the spare bucket of water and then studied the paints set out in front of them. His eyes scanned all the various shades of blue, trying to figure out which one would be right. 

Not cerulean.

Not azure. 

Not turquoise. 

Zayn leaned closer and narrowed his eyes, studying the labels of the paints. 

There it was!

Sky blue. 

Satisfied, Zayn dipped his brush into the blue and then pressed it lightly to his canvas, making oceanic smudges beneath the mop of sunny hair. He definitely didn't get the shape of the eyes right, but he'd fix it later. Zayn was soon painting with as much fervor as Miss. Waverly, unable to stop the smile blossoming across his cheeks. His teacher leaned over his shoulder and studied his work, giggling as Zayn painted the angles of the portrait's face.   
"Whoever he is Zayn, he's cute. You've got good taste." she teased.   
"I will start making Chemistry jokes: don't test me." 

They painted in companionable silence for awhile. After about twenty minutes of uninterrupted painting, Zayn put his brush down and studied his handiwork. He knew his painting skills left a lot to be desired. The hair was sloppily done, waves and waves of unruly blonde. The face was too angular, and the eyes didn't hold near as much warmth and beauty as they did in reality. 

But it was still Niall, and he was still beautiful, at least to Zayn's biased eye. 

Miss. Waverly glanced at his painting again, and she beamed, her toothy grin flashing.   
"Zayn, once you're done this, you're submitting in somewhere. I don't give a shit where, but it's going somewhere."   
Zayn smiled, feeling proud. He laid his brush down and was just preparing to gather his things and leave when a knock came at the art room door.   
"Zayn!"

Niall. 

Oh shit. 

_Shit._

"Zayn, please be in there, I need to talk with you." Niall said, sounding close to tears. And _fuck_ , Zayn's couldn't let _that_ happen, but he couldn't come in here with Miss. Waverly and the goddamn painting and oh Christ on a cracker, Miss. Waverly was _heading for the door_. 

What Zayn did next was pure self-preservation. 

He sprinted over to his teacher and picked her up by the waist, throwing her over his shoulder. Rushing back to the paintings, he dropped her down, whispering an urgent "Please move the painting please please hide it anywhere he can't see it."   
Miss. Waverly's eyes went round and she grinned wickedly, struggling to hide her laughter. Zayn said a silent prayer that she did as he'd begged as he walked forward to open the door and let Niall in. 

Taking a deep breath, Zayn grabbed the handle of the door and opened it, stepping aside as an angry Irishman bustled in.   
"Zayn, I'm so annoyed. Like so _fucking annoyed_ Have I ever told you that I hate people? Well, I do. Hate them. With every fiber in my five foot, nine inch body." Niall ranted, his voice shrill and faster than normal. "What possesses people to be fucking arseholes? It's Christmas, for Christ's sakes! You're meant to love your fellow man and shit-" 

Niall turned and saw Miss. Waverly walking calmly back from the supply closet, presumably where she'd hidden Zayn's painting. He mentally blessed her. As a fellow artist, she must understand. He'd have to buy her a fruit basket as thanks or something. Niall didn't seem too happy to see her though. He went white and then bright red, faster than a traffic light.   
"I-I- I am so sorry for cursing like I just did." he stammered out, biting down on his bottom lip. "I'm just very- upset right now."   
"It's fine, kid." Miss. Waverly said, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm way more vulgar in here than you just were. Plus, it's more charming when you do it, with that brogue at all."   
Niall nodded uneasily, seeming unable to respond, and Zayn kinda wanted to beat his skull against the cement wall. Miss. Waverly unslung her lanyard of keys from around her neck and tossed it to Zayn.   
"Well, I'm off. Lock up when you're done, Malik." she said cheerily, shoving her arms into her coat. Oh thank goodness. She was leaving so Zayn could handle whatever Niall's problem was alone. Fruit basket it was. She probably wouldn't eat it, but she might paint it. 

Miss. Waverly walked forward and went to the door, opening it again. But then she paused and turned back around, and really, the smirk on her face should've tipped Zayn off to what came next. 

"Nice blonde hair, kid. You should sit for a portrait sometime." 

Zayn took back everything he just said. No fruit baskets for Miss. Waverly. Perhaps just a poisoned apple. 

 

She finally, _finally_ left, the door closing with a resonating finality behind her. Zayn took a breath, turning to face Niall. He was pacing back and forth across the cleared area of the art room, either running his hands through his unruly hair or putting them behind his back. He was still agitated and skittish, like a scared Shetland pony or something. He moved towards a chair, as if to sit in it, but then stayed standing, nibbling on his lip as his hands tapped out an unsteady beat on the back of the chair.   
"What's wrong, Ni?" Zayn asked softly, hesitantly. Niall looked at him swiftly, his bottom lip jutting out behind his teeth. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and then cleared his throat.   
"Everything, Zayn." he said, his voice wavering slightly. He tried to hide it behind a winning smile and a shrug of his shoulders, but Zayn could see through him. Niall was the epitome of an open book. Niall was a sheet of glass. Zayn didn't want to see his reflection in him: a fractured, hurting boy in desperate need of anything, something, _someone._

"Everything is wrong." 

And then, his voice broke for good. Niall tipped his head back and blinked rapidly, the way you do when you're crying so hard not to cry. He exhaled a few times, muttering a curse under his breath. Because the tears were slipping down Niall's cheeks faster and faster with each passing second, and he looked so small. His shoulders were hunched over and he was folded in on himself, his rapid breaths swiftly leading to full on hyperventilation. 

Where was the boy whose laugh was like an exploding star? Where was the boy whose eyes looked like the ocean on a clear day? Whose presence illuminated the room? Where was the boy without a care in the world?

And how could Zayn bring him back? He felt so useless, so pathetic. Niall was standing right in front of him, clearly needing comfort, and yet Zayn couldn't move. He was frozen in place, his feet cemented to the floor. He wanted to speak but he could not, whatever words of comfort he had to offer dying in his throat. Because this was-this was too much. Happy Niall was one thing. Zayn was used to that. Sad Niall though- that was something entirely new. 

Every tear that slipped down Niall's face made Zayn's hands itch to grab any kind of art supplies. He now understood why painters didn't always make their portraits look overjoyed. Emotion is difficult to master in art, but no emotion is clearer than pain. Even a baby's first instinct is to cry. And Zayn knows the question that every artist has been trying to answer for centuries. 

How could somebody manage to look so beautiful when they're not smiling? 

Niall wrapped his arms around his middle, tucking his chin down against his chest. He rubbed fiercely at his eyes with the back of his hand, the skin irritated and red. Slowly, Zayn stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Niall. Zayn still didn't know what to say, so he'd try something else. Touch. 

Zayn gently pulled Niall's hands away from his face, taking the left one and interlocking his own fingers with the boy's. Niall blinked up at him, tears still glimmering on his light eyelashes. Zayn smiled slightly, brushing them away with the pad of his thumb. He reached down and put a hand on Niall's back, pulling him into a hug. 

Niall melted into the embrace instantly, pushing his wet face into the wool of Zayn's sweater. He cried harder as Zayn held him, his shoulders shaking. Zayn rocked them back and forth, awkwardly but soothingly, rubbing his hands up and down Niall's back. Niall was crying into the crook of Zayn's neck, his breaths rattling and hot against Zayn's skin. He hiccupped, clinging onto Zayn's waist, and Zayn never, never wanted to let him go.   
"Shhh." he crooned. "Niall, shhhh." 

Slowly, Niall quieted, pulling back from Zayn, still breathing heavily. Zayn offered up a small smile, brushing away a stray tear left on Niall's red cheek, and he gave a watery one back.   
"Can we sit?" Niall said suddenly, his eyes darting to look at the chairs. "I think this would go better if we sit."   
Zayn nodded, stepped backwards and breaking out of Niall's arms. He walked over to one of the chairs and sat down, pulling the other across from him. Niall sat down in it, perching on the very end, biting down so hard on the inside of his cheek that Zayn thought he’d tear right through it. 

Niall looked so _young_ right then. He was sitting up straight, his hands clasped in his lap. His feet couldn’t stay still, so he kicked them back and forth, tapping his soles nervously against the floor. His tie was crooked and his shirt was untucked and his hair was falling down in front of his eyes. Zayn knew Niall wasn’t that much younger than him, but in that moment, he keenly felt the year and a half that separated the two of them. As they sat in the art room, Niall fiercely resembled one of Zayn’s little sisters, coming to him for comfort. As weird as that may be, considering that Zayn thought about kissing Niall quite a bit. 

“What’s up?” Zayn asked gently, ducking his head down so he could see Niall’s face. Niall crossed his fingers in his lap, bringing one hand up to his mouth to bite on his thumbnail. He gave a bitter laugh, and it sounded wrong coming out of his mouth. Niall’s laugh was meant to be happy. Niall’s laugh was meant to be beautiful. Niall’s laugh was meant to be the truest expression of joy that Zayn had ever seen. It wasn’t meant to be bitter. 

“I hate Christmas.” Niall said at last, shrugging his shoulders. “I fucking cannot stand anything about the entire holiday.”  
“Okay.” Zayn said simply. Niall’s eyes flicked over to look into his and then they flitted away again, as fast as birds in flight.   
“You haven’t asked why.” Niall mumbled, somewhat petulantly. Zayn usually would’ve gotten annoyed at this point, because seriously, was he gonna make him pull teeth? What the fuck? 

But it was Niall. And he seemed to make Zayn break every single one of his own rules. 

“Is there a reason you hate Christmas, Niall?” he asked softly, reaching over to touch Niall’s skinny knee cap with his fingertips.   
“I hate it because my mum loved it.” he said in a rush, not realizing that his hand had moved down to brush across Zayn’s. His hands were cold, leaching Zayn’s warmth. 

Niall seemed to get choked up again and he took a deep breath, shaking his head. Zayn was hyper aware of every place their skin touched. Niall’s fingers were framed by his own, and it wouldn’t take much to hold his hand. But- no. Focus.   
“I hate it because my mum loved it.” Niall repeated, slower this time. Subconsciously, his limp grip on Zayn’s hand tightened. “And she- she doesn’t live with us anymore. 

Zayn nodded, reaching up to grip Niall’s shoulder comfortingly. Niall had never told him that his parents were divorced, but Zayn had eventually assumed it, because of Niall’s last minute move and how he never seemed to mention his mother. It must’ve been a messy split, and the kid usually picks a side. Both Louis’ and Harry’s parents were divorced. Harry seemed to love both his parents equally, even though he lived with his mother. Louis, on the other hand, was the polar opposite. He hated his father with every bone in his body. Whenever somebody dared mention him, Louis’ blue gaze grew icy, and he got extremely quiet. At first, Zayn had thought it was from anger at the mere mention of his dad. But as he got to know Louis better, he saw it for what it really was: Sadness. Louis was sad his dad wasn’t around, and he manipulated that sorrow into rage. 

So, Zayn wasn’t really surprised by what Niall said next. 

“And fuck, Zayn, sometimes I hate her. I hate her for leaving us. For leaving _me_. Even though I know it was for the best or whatever, I still hate her for it. And most of the time, I can go around hating her. But I can’t- I can’t do it at Christmas. Because this entire time of year reminds me of her too much. So that’s why I hate Christmas instead.” Niall said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. 

“I see.” Zayn said, nodding thoughtfully. He patted Niall’s knee, toying with the purposeful rip in his jeans. He had a jagged scar stretching across his knee cap and Zayn briefly wondered where it was from. There was so many things Zayn wanted to know about Niall. 

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Zayn asked, already knowing it wasn’t. Niall was still agitated, so he clearly hadn’t said everything he wanted (or needed) to say. Niall looked up again, shaking his head slowly. His blue eyes were made bluer by even more unshed tears, and Zayn sent up a silent prayer that he wouldn’t cry again. 

Because Zayn didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from kissing him if he did. 

“On my way here, I met Harry and Louis.” Niall said, his voice tight and controlled. Trying not to show emotion. “And they were great, happy to see me, all that. Glued to the hip, as always.” 

Here, both the boys gave a smile, because what else would Louis and Harry be? But Niall’s swiftly faded away, being replaced by an acute exhaustion. He slumped forward, heaving out a breath.   
“So, I decided to walk them to Louis’ car, just to be nice, ya know? Christmas and all that shite. We get there and Harry gets into the passenger side after saying goodbye to me. But Louis didn’t get in and-”

Niall swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat. Zayn thought he could hear his heart pounding. But maybe it was Zayn’s own.   
“Somebody had keyed “faggot” into his car door.” Niall spat out through clenched teeth. “It’s literally the first day of Christmas break, and somebody did that to him, because it hadn’t been there this morning. You should’ve seen his face, Z. He went white as a fecking sheet and then just looked so sad. He like- hurriedly shook his head at me because of course Louis wouldn’t want Harry to know.”

Zayn felt sick to his stomach. Poor Louis. Poor unknowing Harry. Poor Niall for having to see that at all. Niall looked at him sadly, his face pinched. He was gauging his reaction, and Zayn tried to keep himself under control, because then they’d both be infuriated and where would that get anyone? Obviously, Zayn wanted to find the little homophobic fucker and beat them to a bloody pulp. He wanted to live up to his punk stereotype for once and get _angry_

But he couldn’t. Because Niall still looked sad, and being disappointed in Zayn’s moral character wouldn’t cheer him up. 

“And I feel so guilty.” Niall said suddenly.  
“Why do you feel guilty, Ni?” Zayn asked, confused. “You didn’t do it. You’ve never treated Louis or Harry badly. You’ve never forced them to even put a label on what they are, which I certainly have tried to do.”   
“I feel guilty because I’m selfish. Something awful had just happened somebody I consider- one of my best mates, actually-” Niall said, turning slightly pink. “Like, you and Liam and Harry and Louis have all treated me so nicely ever since I got here. Even though I’m younger and kinda a total loser, you guys- you accepted me and took me to parties-”

Niall broke off, clearing his throat again. He held Zayn’s hand fully now and he managed to smile, those dimples that Zayn liked so much appearing in his cheeks.   
“I’ve never had friends like you guys. I’ve especially never had a friend like _you_ , Zayn. I’ve never had people who accept me just how I am: loud and obnoxious and Irish as fuck. And as soon as something bad happened to one of you, to one of my friends, all I could do was worry about myself.”

Zayn didn't know what to say, feeling lost. Who would try and hurt Niall? Harmless, actual ray of sunshine Niall?

“Why are you worried about yourself?” Zayn pressed, wanting to know, wanting to understand. He was floundering, he knew that. Grasping for handholds that weren’t there and that Niall wasn’t giving him. Still, he’d try to keep climbing.   
“Because- if something like that can happen to Louis, who’s friends with everyone. Louis, who’s loved by all and popular and charms the pants off everyone with his smile, can have that happen to him, then- then who’s to say it won’t happen me?” Niall said in a rush, his words nearly garbled together. 

Zayn stopped breathing. 

He stared unblinkingly at Niall, the words hitting him again and again, crashing over him like waves to the shore, weighing down on his chest like lead. 

_Who’s to say it won’t happen to me?_

Did that mean what Zayn thought it meant? Was Niall trying to do what Zayn thought he was trying to do? Was Zayn having an aneurysm? 

Niall stared right back, a pale hand pressed to his chest, massaging right over his heart. He looked like he was going to pass out, and Zayn knew he should say something to relieve the palpable tension in the room, but he couldn’t say _anything_ until he was 100 percent sure. Because if he was wrong, than this conversation would get ten times harder than it already was.

“And now you think I’m a dick.” Niall said wretchedly, tugging at his hair. “Which I definitely am. A hate crime was just committed against my brave, out of the closet friend, and I’m worried about my own closeted arse.”

Zayn’s brain was going to implode in on itself. This was the second coming out he’d experienced in this art room in a single day. That had to be some kind of record somewhere. 

Niall suddenly burst up out of his seat, being to pace again. He strode back and forth across the room, the nervous energy radiating from his wiry frame. He paused to look at the sketches hanging on the wall and then whirled back around, flinging his hands up in the air. His eyes were wild: stormy as the Irish Sea and just as dangerous. 

“And I don’t even fucking know what I am!’ he half screamed, in clear frustration. “I can’t figure it out, because I’m feeling all these things and I’m being pulled one way and then another and I don’t know what I want. And I don’t even have a fucking mother to cry about it to, because _she left me_!” 

 

Niall finally snapped. He grabbed the nearest thing he could find and threw it down to the ground, leaning over at the waist and heaving back air. Zayn jumped at the sound of something shattering, already knowing it was something made of clay. He glanced over at the ground beneath Niall’s feet and felt his heart swoop as he recognized what was lying, in two pieces, on the art room floor. 

It was the handprint. The handprint they’d made together the last time Niall had been here. Zayn let himself be upset over it for two seconds before he moved. 

Zayn stood up and walked over to where Niall was standing. Niall was swaying on his feet, seeming overwrought, still trying to breathe but not managing it. Zayn moved so he was standing opposite him, scrunching over so Niall could see his face. Slowly, Zayn reached over, supporting Niall under his armpits. As a unit, he eased them down until they were sitting on the ground, most of Niall’s body weight being supported by Zayn. Niall was leaning heavily against Zayn’s chest, his face pressed into Zayn’s collarbone. Zayn’s cheek was in Niall’s hair and he gently smoothed Niall’s fringe away from his forehead. 

"I'm sorry." Niall sobbed into Zayn's jumper, clinging to him like a lifeline. "I broke the handprint, I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry-"   
"It doesn't matter, Nialler." 

Zayn had been in this position before. He’d been sick with nerves before he’d told anyone. He’d cried into his mother’s sweater when he’d done it. And then there’d been the exhaustion afterwards: the aching, agonizing exhaustion from the stress of keeping the secret, working up the courage to say it, and finally releasing it. It was an exhaustion that spread all over your body, worked its steady way through your bones, seeped into your pores, danced along your nerves, and set your heart to fire because suddenly, it wasn’t just your secret anymore. 

And for what seemed like the first time this entire turbulent evening, Zayn knew what to say. 

“Niall, I am so proud of you.” he whispered into Niall’s hair. “So, so unbelievably proud.”

He’s so young. He’s just a kid, really. And every kid who did what Niall just did, deserves to hear that from someone. And Zayn knows he’s definitely not the right someone. Not who Niall wanted to tell, not who he needed to tell, but he’s still who he chose to tell, so Zayn would damn well do his part. 

“You are?” Niall said stuffily, looking up at Zayn. His eyes were red and swollen from so much crying. “Even though I’m a selfish bastard who doesn’t know what to call himself?”  
“You’re not a selfish bastard.” Zayn said firmly, his grip on Niall’s body tightening as if he could keep the thought away by holding him closer.   
“Zayn, I’ve never been kissed.” Niall said bluntly. “By anyone. So like- how can I- how can I _call_ myself something if I’ve never experienced _anything_?” 

Fuck. 

Niall had never even been fucking kissed. 

Jesus Christ on a stick. 

That was something Zayn did not need to know. 

Focus, Malik, focus. 

"Sometimes, you don't need to be kissed to know." Zayn said carefully. "Like- I've only ever had one relationship ever, and it was with a girl, and then I knew."   
" _you_?" Niall said incredulously. "You've never kissed a boy? You?" 

Zayn said nothing, flushing at his ears. He'd kissed plenty of boys, and done quite a bit more with them, but nothing was ever serious. It'd all been random hook ups at parties: bathroom floors, locked bedroom doors, incessant, lustful, and desperate. There wasn't much romance involved. Zayn had never had first kiss butterflies, or had to introduce a boy to his parents, or been brought flowers.

Zayn had never had a real boyfriend, and he hadn't found that disconcerting until right this very second. 

"I've never been in a relationship with a boy." Zayn said, his voice sorta wobbly. "But I've- I've been intimate with boys before." 

Niall blushed as he understood what Zayn was saying, and he rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable.   
"Well, I've never even done that." he said. "So, you've one upped me."   
“I honestly don’t think I have.” Zayn replied quietly, his thumbs pressing into the skin of Niall’s hips. Niall shrugged his shoulders, a slightly movement that shifted his frame upward. He mustered the tiniest smile Zayn had ever seen him give, and Zayn returned it, squeezing his hand  
"Thank you for telling me, Niall." he said softly, admiring the way the lights of the art room cast shadows along his cheekbones. Niall was a painting waiting to happen, really. 

Niall's face scrunched together in confusion, and he titled his head to the side, studying Zayn with his eyes narrowed.   
"You mean- you didn't already know?" Niall asked hesitantly. "Like didn't even assume that I was- whatever I am?"  
Zayn shook his head and Niall gave a small sigh.   
"Well, that's sorta a relief. I would've thought that you of all people-" 

Niall's voice died suddenly and he scrambled up, brushing bits of clay off his pants. Zayn was left sitting on the ground, blinking at the sudden loss. One second, they'd been cuddling and crying, and the next, Niall was halfway out the door?

This whole evening had just been strange. 

Zayn stood up, watching Niall as he flitted about, gathering his things. He hurriedly cleaned up the shattered clay, looking at it with remorse before throwing it into the bin.   
"Still can't believe I did that-"   
"We'll make another sometime." Zayn said, leaning against the wall of the art room. Niall smiled at that and Zayn thought his heart resembled a Russian trapeze artist, by the amount of flips it was doing. Niall turned as he shrugged his coat on and stood in front of Zayn. He cleared his throat, sliding the heel of his foot back and forth across the floor.   
"I've certainly weirded up your night." he said, trying for humor. "So I should probably leave before I make it any weirder-"   
Zayn said nothing, wanting him to stay, wanting to kiss him, wanting. Niall gave a brief nod and then turned to leave. Zayn lunged forward and put a hand on his elbow, pulling him back around. 

"Yeah?" Niall said, sounding- hopeful?

Looking down at his face, Zayn realized that he hadn't even planned what he was going to say. He just didn't want Niall to leave just yet. He wracked his brains desperately, trying to come up with an excuse. Studying Niall's features, his eyes landing on his mouth. 

His fucking mouth. 

A mouth that had never felt the sweet brush of a kiss. Lips that Zayn wanted interlocked with his own. Zayn wanted to bite at Niall's mouth until it opened and bruise the pale skin of Niall's neck with his teeth. He wanted Niall pressed up against him, breathless and shaking, his head thrown back so Zayn had easy access to his pulse point. Zayn wanted to kiss him until they both couldn't breathe, sharing a space so small, it barely exists, swapping their breath like it was the last left. 

Zayn thought about how white Niall's skin underneath his shirt must be, and how lovely paint spattered against it would look. He wanted to paint him like a fresh canvas, mold him out of clay like a statue. 

Zayn wanted to be Niall's first kiss. The thought thrummed in his head and flopped around in his stomach and followed the rhythm of his heart. Zayn almost ached with the desire to kiss him in that art room, surrounded by gray tables and shitty art work. It'd be so easy: he was right there, kissing distance away, looking up at Zayn innocently-

Innocently. 

Niall was so, so innocent. He didn't know anything about desire. He'd never met a stranger at a party and gone for an emotionless fuck just because he'd had a bad day. Niall probably believed in romance, in love. He deserved all the things Zayn had never allowed himself to have with a boy: handholding, being so nervous for your first kiss that you think you'll vomit, goodnight kisses, good morning kisses, flowers, presents, all that stuff. 

Zayn couldn't take that away from him. He refused to just grab Niall by the shoulders and press his mouth against his, just to fufill his own desires. He wouldn't steal Niall's first kiss like a petty thief. He'd have to earn it, but Zayn really didn't think he was capable of that. Despite being an artist, Zayn wasn't a romantic. 

But Niall was still patiently waiting for him to say something, and damn, how much time had passed while Zayn was having his morality crisis?

"Dinner?" Zayn blurted out, saying the first thing that came to his mind. "Dinner, with me?"  
Niall's eyes widened in shock, and Zayn wanted to stuff his body into the microwave they use to dry pottery and set it on high. Niall had literally come out of the closet to Zayn about fifteen minutes ago, and now it looked like Zayn was trying to pull him by asking him out on a date. It was major damage control time.   
"Well, not with me. Sorta with me. With me and my family."

Niall's expression returned to normal and Zayn felt his body relax.   
"That's a really nice offer, Zayn, but I don't think I can." Niall said. "I don't want to just barge in on your family meal night thing-"   
"Nah, mate, it's fine! We've always got an extra chair, my dad refuses to get rid of anything. My sisters barely notice what's happening. Queen Elizabeth could walk through the door and they'd ask her to play Jenga with them. And my mum won't mind at all: she cooks enough to feed a small army-"   
"Your mum?" Niall asked suddenly. "She'll be there too?"  
"Mmhhm." Zayn said, nodding. "Always is. Dinner would be a war zone without her." 

Niall paused, as if he was considering it. He fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, sliding it up and down, refusing to meet Zayn's eyes. And that's how Zayn knew he convinced him. Because if anything, Niall needed a mum today.   
"You're sure she wouldn't mind?" he asked, his voice meek.   
"I'm positive. She _wants_ me to bring my friends home and make them as chubby as possible."   
Niall laughed at that, and it sounded like his normal laugh, and Zayn felt some of the tightness in his chest ease.   
"So, you'll come?" he continued hopefully.   
"Will I have to ride on your motorcycle again?"  
"Yeah, unless you want to walk-"   
"No- no, I think I'd like the motorcycle." 

One short motorcycle ride later (in which both Niall and Zayn wore helmets, at Niall's insistence) they pulled up outside Zayn's house. They walked up the driveway and Zayn opened up the garage door, stepping aside so Niall could walk in. He walked up to the doormat and scraped his shoes off.   
"You're absolutely, positively sure nobody will mind?" Niall asked one last time. "Because I can just head home right now-"  
"Niall." Zayn said, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "They'll be overjoyed."   
The Irish boy's cheeks turned pink from embarrassment and Zayn pulled the back door of the house open, heading inside first with Niall at his heels. 

"I'm home!" Zayn called, unzipping his jacket and hanging it up on the coat racket. Niall did the same, and Zayn took his coat, hanging it up for him. Zayn's youngest sister, nine year old Safaa, came boling around the corner and rammed into him, wrapping her arms around his torso. She was still young enough that she got excited whenever Zayn got home. His middle sister Waliyha, at thirteen, was "too cool" to be happy to see her brother. 

Safaa saw Niall over Zayn's shoulder and shrunk back, shielding herself with Zayn's body.   
"Who's that?" she asked shyly, in an awful whisper.   
"That's my mate Niall." Zayn mock whispered back. "He's coming for dinner."   
Safaa studied Niall for a moment and he offered her a nervous smile, his dimples peeking out. She gave one back, with a swift nod of her head.   
"Alright!" she said, leaning over and shaking Niall's hand. "Nice to meet you!"   
And then she was bouncing away again, her shiny black pony tail swinging in the air. Niall blew out a shaky breath.   
"One down." he mumbled. "How many more to go? How many Maliks are there?"   
"Just a couple more." Zayn assured him with a wry grin. 

They walked further into the kitchen, Niall practically hiding in Zayn's shadow.   
"Hi Dad!" Zayn said, seeing his father sitting at the kitchen table. "My friend Niall's here for dinner, that alright?"   
"Yes, yes." Ysaer said absent mindedly, looking up and smiling in Niall's direction. "Next to meet you, Mr. Horan."   
Niall went over and shook his hand. Zayn could see him shaking slightly, and fel guilty. He knew his dad could be intimidating, with his dark eyes and brooding expression. But he was kind hearted beneath the gruffness. Like a big old teddy bear, really. 

Zayn heard a clatter in the laundry room and turned around. He saw his mother, Tricia, come out from behind the door, looking stressed.   
"Oh, Zayn." she said breathlessly. "You're home." 

She blew right past them, heading towards the stove. She literally brushed shoulders with Niall as she moved toward the boiling water to turn it down. Niall glanced at Zayn worriedly and Zayn cleared his throat, getting ready to alert his mother to a stranger's presence in their home. 

Before he could though, Tricia turned on her heels. She looked at Niall, tilting her head to the side as she studied him.   
"Hello." she said with a small smile. "Who're you?"   
"I'm Niall." He said nervously. "Zayn's friend? Er- he asked me here for dinner tonight?"  
Zayn's mother's face split into a wide smile, the smile lines that Zayn inheritated appearing in her skin around her eyes.   
"Oh good!" she said cheerfully, walking over to greet him properly. "I thought we'd adopted one for a moment." 

And with that, Tricia shook Niall's hand and pulled him in for a long hug. He tensed for a few seconds by he relaxed, resting his chin on the junction of her shoulder and neck. Zayn knew it was impromptu, that his mother couldn't have possibly known how badly Niall needed that today. But part of Zayn wondered if she'd something in his eyes: something fragile, something needy, something only a mother could make better. 

And well, only Zayn saw the glimmer of wetness in Niall's eyes as he leaned away from Tricia, but again, that was something nobody else needed to know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another monster of a chapter...i read through it maybe once.....I hope you like it though!!!

Despite the fact that Zayn isn't Christian and doesn't celebrate Christmas, he somehow got himself involved in a Secret Santa with his friends. It happened like this: Louis called Zayn the second day of winter break with the idea.   
"We're having a Secret Santa this year and you're involved. You'll get a name and then have to buy that person a present, to be exchanged at my house on December 24th." Louis said affirmatively, his voice sounding far away through the phone.   
"Well, that certainly leaves no room for negotiation." Zayn sighed, holding the mobile phone between his shoulder and ear as he folded laundry.   
"It's all part of Operation Leprecuan, young pottowan. I'm the one picking the names, so you'll get Niall."   
"No!" Zayn said hurriedly, almost dropping a shirt. "Don't do that, Lou."   
"Why not? It'll aid the whole _Niall falling in love with you_ thing."   
"Because I wouldn't know what to buy him. He seems- tricky."   
"Play upon the Irishness. Buy him a pint glass or shot glasses or something."   
"He doesn't drink. At least, I don't think he does. He seems kinda- skittish around stuff like that, I dunno."   
"Put yourself in a box and say 'All I want for Christmas is you."   
"Haha, was that Harry's idea?"   
"A huge packet of condoms, then. It might convey the message that you'd like to fu-"   
"Louis!" Zayn said sharply. "Don't talk about Niall like that. That's not funny."   
"Alright, alright." Louis amended. "But will you please be part of it? It won't be as much fun without you, Z."   
"Okay." Zayn agreed, somewhat reluctantly.   
"Also, presents for a certain someone's birthday wouldn't go amiss-"   
"I've had your birthday present for weeks now, Louis."   
"I knew there was a reason I like you, Malik. Other than your pretty face, of course." 

So, Zayn had constant stress over the next two weeks, trying to figure out what to buy Niall, who doesn't even like Christmas! He hated it! Briefly, when he had trawled through the many stores of the mall for hours, Zayn considered buying him nothing at all, and just jokingly saying "Oh, you hate everything about this holiday, so I figured that not receiving a shitty present that you'll find no use for would be a plus for you!" 

But Zayn has a heart three times the normal size, and no matter how much someone can hate Christmas, they probably still like getting presents. Zayn sighed, leaning against the wall of the shopping centre and considering throwing himself down onto the bottom floor. Would it hurt that much? Would it temporarily put him in a hospital bed and he'd miss Christmas?

Would it hurt less that having a crush on Niall? Because if so, Zayn was open to the possibility. 

Zay was jostled by shoppers moving to and fro through the mall. A cleancut looking lady with a little girl clinging to her hand passed by Zayn's little niche, and then stopped, looking at the window display of Abercrombie and Fitch. The kid stared up at Zayn, a smile missing a few teeth stretching across her face.   
"I like your jacket." she said brightly, tugging at the end of one of her pigtails. "Its shiny spikes are cool."   
"I like your red bows in your hair." Zayn replied and the girl giggled, pressing her fist against her mouth bashfully. "Very pretty."   
"Can I touch one of the spikes?" she asked curiously and Zayn smiled. Little girls, always fascinated by shiny objects. Having sisters had trained Zayn very well.   
" 'Course." Zayn said, kneeling down obligingly. The little girl reached up to Zayn's shoulder, grazing the spikes with the tips of her fingers. And then she was laughing, and so was Zayn, and maybe this blasted trip to the mall was worth it.

Suddenly, the little girl's mother wrenched her away, gripping her by the elbows and shaking her roughly.   
"Bella, what did I tell you about talking to strangers?" she said shrilly. The woman shoot Zayn a distasteful look, and he tried to settle his expression into something complacent, rather than disgusted. What did she think he was gonna do? Tie the kid's pigtails around his wrists and drag her away?  
"You told me not to do it." Bella said sullenly, scuffling the tiles with her Sketcher.   
"And why didn't you listen to me?"   
"I don't like listening." she replied insolently, looking up at her mother and returning her stare. "Nobody listens to me, so why should I listen back?" 

Zayn bit down on his lip, sidling away as the uptight mum berated Bella more, who continued to blatantly not listen. God, Zayn loved it. Little rebel in the making. The next generation of punks was on their way. That poor mother would have more than a few gray hairs before that girl was raised. 

Feeling marginally better, Zayn continued his trek through the mall, going in and out of a couple more stores. He passed an Irish merchandise stall and thought about buying Niall various gag gifts: a green hat with a red beard, an apron that said "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" (gladly), and boxers with four leaf clovers patterned on them. 

Probably not his best idea. Zayn moved on. He reached the end of the mall, still empty handed. Beginning to lose hope, Zayn seriously debated actually taking Louis' advice and putting himself in a box.   
"Merry Christmas, Niall." he muttered bitterly under his breath. "I'm your present. I know I'm disappointing. You don't even want me: I'm like that shitty present your auntie Muriel gets you and you have to pretend to love. But I want you really badly. Can I kiss you now? I'd be a good first kiss: I know what I'm doing, at the very least." 

So caught up in his dramatics, Zayn didn't notice the sign in front of him and walked right into it. Clutching at his throbbing forehead, Zayn groaned lowly, wondering if this day could get any fucking worse. Blinking his eyes open slowly, he glared at the offending sign, looking for the shape of his face pressed against the plastic. 

"GUITAR SHOP THIS WAY" it read in bright neon green colors. 

Oh god fucking bless. 

 

A week later, Zayn was sitting in Louis' living room, surrounded by his boys, all sitting in a circle with their presents clutched in their hands. Louis' house was warm and bright: filled to the bursting with life. His four younger sisters filled the place with happy noise, there was a smell of cookies baking in the oven, and Christmas carols were playing from a CD player. They even had six stockings hung up on the fireplace: Fizzie, Lottie, Daisy, Phoebe, Louis, and Johannah. 

It's- nice. Homey. Especially for people who have worked so hard to have a home. 

Zayn looked around himself, taking in his friends around him. Liam was sitting sideways in an armchair, his legs hanging over the side and his present resting on his chest. Harry was curled up on the love seat, surprise surprise, waiting for Louis to join him. And Niall was lying on the floor, his head supported by a pillow. His torso looked small and lean, drowning in a Christmas sweater with a reindeer on the front. His legs were flat against the floor, the denim of his black jeans looking as if it'd been spray painted on. His cheeks were bright pink from the warmth of the room and his hair was spiked up with gel into a quiff, a new look for him. It made him look older, and Zayn couldn't figure out if he liked that or not. 

Then Zayn gave himself a shake, because it wasn't his place to determine what look he liked on Niall. 

Louis came bounding into the sitting room, a tray of drinks clutched in his hands.   
"I hope you're ready, boys!" he crowed. "Mama T's eggnog is about to rock your world." 

He handed around eggnog to all the boys, then going to the tree and pulling out his present for his Secret Santa. Zayn took a sip of his drink, the creamy substance coating the back of his throat. It was colyingly sweet, making his teeth ache a bit. He wiped some foam off his upper lip, glancing over at Louis. He'd squashed himself into the couch beside Harry, throwing an arm around his waist and nuzzling his face into the curls against the nape of Harry's neck. 

Zayn wished he had somebody to cuddle, dammit. 

"Should we get this started, then?" Liam asked, setting down his mug of eggnog down carefully on a coaster. He put his Secret Santa gift on his knees, looking around. "Should I just give it to whoever I had or-"   
"No!" Louis cried, "That's not how you do it."   
"Well then, how do you?"   
Louis huffed out a long, suffering sigh, standing up again. His hands stayed interlocked with Harry's though, one of Harry's thumbs pressed to the pulse in his wrist.   
"Everyone put your gift into the middle of the floor." Louis instructed. "Sorry Nialler, but you're gonna have to move.Why don't you go sit beside Zayn over there? He's got loads of space in that armchair." 

Oh that little shitbox. 

Little fucking, matchmaking _shit_.

Niall scrambled up, dusting off his jeans with his hands. He sauntered over to Zayn and looked at him shyly, rocking back and forth on his heels. Zayn moved to the left, patting the pace beside him, feeling his heart hammer against his ribs. Niall gingerly sank down onto the cushion, looking as uncomfortable as Zayn felt. Their thighs brushed together and Niall jumped, leaning further away from the other boy. Zayn sorta wanted to rip off his own skin and feed it to vultures. 

This was never going to work. They were both too antsy, with not enough space to keep from touching. They'd have to be comfortable either sitting closer together or one of them would have to get up and move, which Zayn was sure would piss Louis off, because Operation fucking Leprecuan. 

There was only one thing for it, then. 

Zayn slid a hand under Niall's thin legs and lifted them up, swinging them around to the left and putting them across his own lap. Niall's ankles rested on one arm of the chair and his neck rested on the other. He squeaked a bit at the sudden movement, his blue eyes startled. Zayn gave him a reassuring smile and tried very hard not to think about the fact that the warm weight of Niall's thighs was currently pressed against his groin area.   
"Thought you'd by comfier this way." he said, hoping his voice wasn't as weak as it felt.   
"Yeah, yeah, s'fine." Niall replied, gulping a bit. Zayn followed the movement of his Adam's apple with his eyes before looking away. 

He was going to kill Louis for putting him through this. 

"Right, lads." Louis said, clapping his hands together. "All the prezzies are in the centre. Now, I pick the first person who chooses a present, and they have to guess whichever one they think is there, and then I'll bring it to them."   
He studied the boys for a moment, tilting his head to the side. He spun around on his heels, grinning wickedly.   
"Harry." he said confidently. "Who do you think had you?"   
Harry looked at the pile of presents on the ground, chewing down on his cheek in thought. He ran a hand through his messy curls, twisting them around his fingers. Zayn liked the contrast of the tones, the dark brown of his hair against the pale whiteness of his fingers. 

"Erm....well, I could be wrong, but- but I think it's Liam?" he drawled, taking twice as long as a normal person would to say it, his posh English accent making it even more ridiculous. And well, by the look on Louis' face, you'd think Harry had just answered the last question on " _So You Wanna Be A Millionare?_ " right.   
"Correct!" he boomed, picking up Liam's neatly wrapped gift and handing it to Harry, pausing to ruffle his hair as he walked by. "So, you open that, and you choose who picks their gift next." 

Harry eagerly tore open the package, looking everything like a kid on Christmas morning. He let the wrapping paper fall down to the ground, holding a box set of DVDs in his hands.   
"Liam!" he literally squealed. "Liam!"   
"What he get ya?" Niall asked curiously, twisting in his seat so he could see better. Zayn saw the strain of Niall's jeans against his hips as he moved and took a deep breath to steady himself. 

_He's basically a kid. Never been kissed. Virginal. Never been kissed. I want to kiss him so badly. I want to be his first everything. Fuck. Fuck. I hate myself._

"It's a box set of Nicholas Sparks movies!" Harry said ecstatically, his green eyes shining. "It's got _The Notebook_ , and _A Walk to Remember_ , and _Dear John_ and-"   
"Liam." Louis groaned, clawing at his face with his hands. "Do you realize what you've done."   
"Why do you think I did it, Lou?" Liam asked with a slight smirk. "Glad you like it, Haz!"   
"Like it? I love it! Lou, we've gotta have a movie night!"   
At the sight of him, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Louis' face softened.   
"Yeah, we've gotta." 

Harry smiled again and then he came back to earth, looking at the other boys.   
"Liam, you next. Guess your present."   
"Louis had me." Liam said automatically and they stared at him as Louis went to grab the hastily wrapped box, bits of tape and red paper sticking up all over the place, complete with a shiny silver bow.   
"How'd you know?" Zayn asked.   
"He might've called me asking that if someone were to have me for a Secret Santa, what would I appreciate them buying?" 

Niall and Zayn burst out laughing, their entire couch being shaken. Niall tipped his head back, the white column of his throat on display. It looked like he was going to roll of the couch, so Zayn put his hands gently on his hips, holding him in place. Niall was still giggling, and that set Zayn off again, and they couldn't stop their antics. Harry, meanwhile, looked horrified.   
"Louis!" he admonished. "You took all the fun out of it for Liam!"   
"I don't mind, Harry." he said mildly. "I'm just happy to be part of it. Louis, can I have that beautifully wrapped gift now?" 

Zayn still hadn't removed his hands, the heat of Niall's waist bleeding into his skin. His hips bones were sharp against Zayn's palms, nudging into them. His shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing the soft, pale skin of his stomach. Zayn quickly grazed his thumbs across it and Niall didn't react, so Zayn did it again, setting a slow, smooth rhythm, so light that he barely knew it was there. 

Liam was unwrapping the box cautiously, as if it already hasn't half open. He laid his paper in a neat pile by his feet and then pulled the lid of the box off, arranging his face into some look of surprise. Louis was biting his nails nervously next to him, studying his expression. 

As Liam looked at what was inside, his fake suprise slid away to reveal real surprise. He just stared at what in the box for a few moments. Then he looked up, clearing his throat a few times, and was Zayn imagining the tears in his eyes?   
"He's got me vintage Batman comics." Liam said, his voice thick. "Louis, I said like- new shaving foam would be fine!"  
"As if I was gonna buy you new fucking shaving foam." Louis scoffed, rolling his eyes. "It's Christmas, Payno. You're worth so much more to me than _foam_ , bloody hell."   
Liam choked a bit as he stood up and vaulted over to Louis, enfolding the smaller boy's body into a crushing hug. He buried his face into Louis' shoulder, gripping him tightly. 

Zayn felt his own set of tears spring up at the sight. He knew Liam hadn't had an easy time of it in primary school. He'd been bullied constantly and was so nervous starting secondary because what if the same thing happened again? Then, it had taken him awhile to open up to the other boys because he couldn't believe they actually wanted to be friends with them. Even now, after being a part of their group for six years, he expected to get toiletries as a Secret Santa present. 

Niall glanced over at Zayn as he hurriedly wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. He said nothing, just reaching over and grabbing one of Zayn's hands from where it rested on his hips. Niall gave his hand a gentle squeeze, his thin fingers tapping out a beat against Zayn's palm. Zayn expected him to let go after that, but he didn't. Niall sat there, just holding Zayn's hand loosely, as if he'd be rejected any second and was waiting to slip away. 

Zayn didn't pull his hand away. Every place their skin touched, he felt heat flare up. He pressed against it like a moth to a flame. Niall was a sunbeam, a burning dancing sunbeam. And Zayn was just trying to stand in his light for a little while. 

Harry had Louis for the Secret Santa, which came as no surprise to him, because Louis had picked the names. Louis flicked his wispy brown fringe out of his eyes and leaned down, picking up Harry's carefully wrapped present. He wasted no time in opening it, finding the weak point in the wrapping and tearing at it with nimble fingers. Tossing the paper of his shoulder, he looked down at the present in his hands. 

It was a ornate photo frame, black swirls and loops and a thick stand to hold it up. A photo of Louis and Harry was in the frame, and with a jolt, Zayn realized that he'd taken it. It was from a few months ago. They were sitting on Liam's couch, their limbs all tangled up with each other's. Harry was leaning back against Louis' chest, half asleep, lazily playing with the fingers of Louis' left hand. But Harry wasn't the reason Zayn had decided to grab Harry's camera and snap the photo. He often looked sleepy and floppy and warm. 

Louis, however, had a look on his face that Zayn had never seen on it before. He looked- quiet. Soft. Reverent. Louis, the boy who was constantly laughing or cursing or screaming or singing to hide how fragile he really felt, had looked vulnerable, clinging back onto the boy who wouldn't let him go. That's why Zayn had taken the picture. 

Dammit, if Zayn teared up one more time today, he was getting his tear ducts surgically removed. 

Louis looked emotional too. He cleared his throat, looking down at his feet and smiling at them. Going over to Harry, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head.   
"Thanks, Hazza." he mumbled, his voice shaky. "That's- that's really, really lovely."   
"There's a card too." Harry replied. "Taped to the back." 

With fingers much less deft than before, Louis turned the photo frame around and pulled the envelope off. Setting the frame carefully down on the couch beside Harry, he opened the card and flipped to the centre, reading the words aloud. 

"Dear, Lou. Merry Christmas! This isn't your birthday present, that one's much better than this, But I hope you like the photograph anyway. I quite like it, myself." he read, running a hand through his hair and tugging at it lightly. 

Louis' eyes flicked over the next words, and he paused, swallowing. It looked as if he was preparing himself for what he was about to say, like it was going to hurt.   
"I hope you never stop holding me. Your Harry." 

Louis cleared his throat, sitting beside Harry and putting an arm around his waist, pulling the boy into his side. Harry nuzzled his face into the crook of Louis' neck, and Louis rested his chin on the top of Harry's head, his face scrunched up from sadness. Zayn saw a single tear glide down his cheek and how quickly his fingers brushed it away. Louis saw himself as the man of his house. He had to be strong, had to protect everyone, couldn't let himself feel. Zayn couldn't remember ever seeing Louis cry, the whole time he'd known him. And they'd been friends since they were twelve. Except for right now, over Harry. 

Always Harry. 

"Well," Louis said after a few moments, his voice too bright. "We still have two more presents to give, right? Zayn, why don't you choose your present next." 

This was a tad redundant, because there were only two presents left, and one Zayn had wrapped himself, so obviously it was the other. And besides, the only way Zayn had been coerced into this thing at all was that Niall would have him as a Secret Santa. Still, Zayn stood, gently sliding Niall's legs off his thighs, and walked over to the two presents on the floor. He picked up the one on the right, a messily wrapped box covered in glittery red paper. 

Going back to his seat, he settled back down, Niall sitting up straight and drawing in his knees to his chest so there was room. Niall rested his cheek on his left knee and looked at Zayn seriously.   
"You've probably twigged that I'm your Secret Santa." he said, quietly but loud enough that the others could hear. "And I hope you like what I've got you, or find use for it or something. But if you don't, please take the whole thing back. I'd rather that you return them and get some money to buy something you'd actually enjoy. Like- please don't spare my feelings or anything-"   
"Niall, I'm sure I'll love whatever you've got me." he assured him, patting Niall's knee. Niall gave a nervous smile and Zayn tore off the paper, chucking it away. He took the lid off the box and looked inside. 

Well, fuck Zayn with a chainsaw. 

Niall bought him a new sketchbook. 

"I noticed that your old one was getting full." Niall explained in a rush. "Not that I've ever looked through it or anything! I just- you have it around you so often and I saw that the pages were getting lower and lower. I'm not trying to say that your old book was bad or anything, I just thought that maybe- you want more." 

_I want so much more. Zayn thought to himself. I want to be so much more with you_. 

But Zayn couldn't say that, because it would be emotional suicide, so instead, he just put a hand on Niall's shoulder and pulled him in for a hug, surreptitiously pressing his face into the hollow of his shoulder.   
"It's perfect Niall." he said, his voice muffled. "I was just about to buy myself a new one, because the old one was getting full and most of the drawings are shit in it anyway."   
"Well, I disagree with that." Niall said, relief in his voice. "But I'm happy you like it. There's something more in there, though. Underneath the book." 

Trying to hide his reluctance over letting Niall go, Zayn let his arms drop and turned back to the box, Taking the sketch pad out, he set it on his knees, trying to find whatever was left in there. His fingers grazed something soft and he pulled it out, stifling at laugh as he realized what was in his hands. 

It was a set of knee and elbow pads. Red, to match his bike helmet. Zayn chuckled as he fiddled with the Velcro straps.   
"In case I fall off?" he asked lightly, amused at the very idea. Zayn was a good driver: his parents wouldn't let him out if he wasn't.   
"Yes." Niall said seriously, his blue eyes wide and earnest. "It's winter, the roads might get icy. You can't be too careful, you know. What if you weren't wearing an elbow pad and then you broke your wrist? You might never be able to draw again!"   
"I don't think that would happen, Ni-"   
"But it might!" he insisted. "I know it's stupid and that you probably won't wear them, but- I don't want you getting hurt. I don't want anyone I care about getting hurt!" 

 

Niall said all of this urgently, his hands clenched into fists on his knees. His expression was stricken and panicked, as if Zayn was going to get into an accident on his way home and be comatose for the rest of his life. He looked so- scared. But Zayn couldn't really focus on that too much, because Niall's last words were still ricocheting around in his head. 

_Anyone I care about_. 

What did that mean? How was Zayn meant to interpret that? Obviously, Niall meant he cared about Zayn, but in what way? As a friend, like the other boys? Or something more? Did Niall's heart flutter the same way Zayn's did everytime they looked at each other?

"I'll- I'll wear the pads, Niall." he said gently, his voice soft. "Actually, I'll put them on right now, if you'd like." 

Niall gave a crooked smile, shaking his head. Not deterred, Zayn unfastened the Velcro of the elbow pad, slipping it over his sweater and tightening it around his arm. Doing the same with the other elbow, he then reached down and stepped into the knee pads, working them up to his knees.   
"Would you like some bubble wrap with that?" Louis called. Zayn turned and stuck his tongue out at him. He then looked back at Niall, nodding at the single present left on the floor.   
"Go on, then." he said encouragingly. "You've still got to open yours." 

Niall stood up and picked up his present. He ran a hand through his hair, looking at them all, one by one. His gaze lingered on Zayn for a few moments, his mouth quirked into a smile over his padding. He bit his lip and then shrugged his shoulders.   
"Before I open this, I just want to say that being here, with all of you, is present enough for me." Niall said. "I always wanted a group of friends to do shite like this with, but I never had one. And then I moved- I moved and I expected my life to be the worst it'd ever been. But it's not." 

Niall took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. He quickly wiped a stray one with his fingers and then sniffed, mustering a wide smile.   
"You guys make me so happy. You make me laugh and smile, even when I don't want to. You guys make me want to dance like an idiot to some shitty pop song and not care who watches. You guys- you made me sing again." 

Niall's voice faltered and he cleared it, his grip on the box tightening. He looked down at his feet, smiling at them absentmindedly, as if he was remembering.   
"The first time I sang in seven months was the first day I met you all. Like I didn't even realize I was doing it. I just went home and found myself singing fucking Katy Perry. And I just- I'm always going to be grateful for that. I found my voice because of you." 

Niall went quiet, looking down at the box in his hands. He was blushing over his sudden outburst, the set of his shoulders tense. There was an awkward silence for a few moments, until Louis broke it.   
"Well, Niall." he said matter factly. "If you didn't expect us to all come and bombard you with hugs   
after that, then you should best prepare yourself."   
"Wha-" Niall started, his eyes widening.   
"GET HIM, BOYS." Louis bellowed, throwing his head back. 

Zayn followed the lead of the others, bolting out of his seat and hurling himself towards Niall. All fours boys hit him at the same time. Harry ended up on the ground, clinging to Niall's thin legs. Zayn was hunched over, his arms around his waist, his head pressed against Niall's chest. Louis was sandwiched between Niall's back and Liam, whose arms were encircling both Louis, Zayn, and whatever part of Niall he could reach.   
"Can someone explain to me what's happening right now?" Niall asked, still limply holding onto the present.   
Nobody answered him for a few moments, all of them enjoying the closeness the hug brought. Zayn's ear was right over Niall's heart, and he could feel it pounding away. He wanted to work his hand under Niall's sweater, to press the skin of his palm against the skin of Niall's chest. And then, Zayn knew how to answer him.   
"You're being loved." he said simply and looked up so he could see the other boy. Niall was staring down at him, his eyes damp, and was Zayn imagining his heartbeat getting even faster?  
"You're being loved because we love you, Niall." 

He was shaking slightly, so all the boys wormed closer, holding him up, holding him together with their own bodies. Suddenly, Niall lost his balance, rocking forward on his heels. They weren't letting him go, so the only thing to do was go down with him. The group fell down to the ground with a thump, a happy, warm pile curled up on the floor. Zayn knew he wasn't going to be the first to get up. 

Niall was leaning against Zayn's chest, his feet on Liam's lap, who was back to back with Louis. Harry's head was on Louis' lap, and his feet were touching Zayn's hip. Somehow, even though it went against all the math Zayn knew, the five of them had formed a circle. 

Fuck math, anyway. 

"Open it." Lou's said, poking at the present with his index finger. "I wanna see what Zayn got ya." 

Niall held the box between his two hands, studying it. Giving it a slight shake, he tore at paper with his thumb. He ripped off a long sheath and then took off the lid, peering inside the box. Zayn felt nerves clenched his insides. Would he like it? What if he hated it? He'd probably hate it, the whole gift was stupid. Zayn was stupid for thinking he'd ever like it. 

Niall reached inside the box, feeling around and pulling out what Zayn had got him. Or rather, made him. After going into that guitar shop, Zayn had realized that, because he was broke, there was no fucking way he could afford anything in there. He couldn't buy a single string off one of those guitars, much less the whole instrument. 

So, Zayn had gotten creative. He'd taken pictures of the nicest guitar in the shop and then went to his local art store, buying some clay, various colors of paint, and twine. He'd holed himself up in his room for a day and a half and then emerged with his creation. It was a clay guitar statue, identical to the one he'd taken photos off in the store. He'd painted it green, white, and gold: the colors of the Irish flag. There were even tiny strings made out of twine and a pick made out of extra bits of clay. 

"I knows it's dumb." Zayn said hurriedly. "Like, smash it if you want."   
"Zayn, shut up." Niall said, a wicked beam on his face. "You made me a fucking perfect Lancaster guitar out of clay. I'm not gonna smash it: Jesus, Mary, and Sweet Saint Joseph."   
Louis laughed, a sharp jolt that made everyone jump. Harry chuckled, low in his chest, shoving his face into Louis's stomach. Liam was giggling with a hand pressed against his mouth and Zayn felt a laugh bubble up in his own chest. And then Niall laughed that glorious laugh, the sound that Zayn never wanted to stop hearing, and Zayn's heart felt too big for his body. 

Before Zayn knew what was happening, Niall was hugging him. His wiry body was pressed against Zayn's and he was whispering something against Zayn's neck. Zayn listened closely so he could hear.   
"Best Christmas present I've ever been given." 

Okay, so maybe Zayn was glad he was a part of this Secret Santa after all. 

 

After while, their huddle dissipated. Harry got up and popped one of his new Nicholas Sparks DVDs into the player, sitting on the couch and watching the opening credits with shining eyes.   
"Oh Hazza, not yet." Louis groaned. "I'm not ready to gouge my eyes out yet."   
"Shh, Lou, it's starting." Harry said, ignoring Louis' self destructive remark and tapping a finger to his lips. Louis sighed and looked at Zayn, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.   
"Wanna go outside for a smoke?" he murmured nonchalantly. Zayn nodded silently and he grabbed his jacket, shrugging it on over his shoulders and being careful to avoid the bulky elbow pads. They walk outside together, standing on the cement walkway out into Louis' garden. 

Louis flips the lid of the cigarette pack open and offers it to Zayn, who pulls out one and holds it between his teeth. Rummaging through his pockets for his lighter, he finds it and then bows his head, lighting first his own cig and then Louis'. They inhale at the same time, Louis coughing slightly. (He's never been as good at smoking as Zayn, always had some kind of guilt complex about it. Probably because Harry never stopped begging him to quit.) 

"So, that guitar, eh?" Louis said suddenly, his voice strangely weak. "You're accomplished step three of Operation Leprecaun, I reckon. It was definitely disgustingly romantic." 

And Zayn just knew. 

Usually, a flippant remark like this from Louis wasn't out of the ordinary. He's a messer, a teaser. He liked to poke fun at the entire world, himself included. His whole, charming attitude was based off a single principle: "I don't give a fuck." He managed to be rude without offense, loving without attachment, kind without ceremony. Louis was magnetic. 

Except now, Louis was reversing his charge. Pushing away against anything that tried to come near. He was deflecting, he was hiding, and Zayn knew, just by how his voice sounded. How _fractured_ it sounded. Louis was hurting, and Zayn could figure out why. 

Reaching over to his friend, Zayn pulled out his hand from the pocket of his jacket. It was clenched in a tight fist, the knuckles white from the pressure. Zayn tried to pry his fingers apart, but Louis gripped tightly, digging his nails into his own palm.   
"Lou." Zayn murmured softly, toying with Louis's thumb. "C'mon, man." 

Slowly, Louis' fingers loosened, his fist unfurling. And Zayn wasn't surprised to see Harry's Christmas card, crumpled up in a ball, sitting on his palm. 

Zayn picked it up, replacing it with his own hand, holding Louis' empty one. He said nothing, just standing there and watching the smoke from the burning ends of their cigarettes float away into the gray winter sky. If only their problems disappeared so easily. 

"Your Harry." Louis muttered, throat scratchy. "Your Harry. Of all _fucking_ things he could write, he wrote that."   
Louis bowed his head, inhaling deeply so his entire body frame shifted upward. His loose hold on Zayn's hand slowly tightened, and then he was gripping Zayn like a vice, like he'd blow away just like the smoke if he let go.   
"Because he is mine, Z." Louis said hurriedly, fiercely, like the words hurt but he wasn't gonna let them. "He is. He's mine and I'm his and I don't want it to be any different. He's my Harry and I'm his Louis and we can continue like that for awhile, maybe even for a forever." 

Louis sighed, an exhausted sound, his ashy breath mingling with the freezing air. It had started to snow lightly, a light white dusting. Zayn just looked at Louis, waiting for him to look back. And when he did, his eyes seemed bluer than they'd ever been before. Maybe from the contrast against the white of the snow. But Zayn thought Louis' eyes might've been bluer because of the unshed tears swimming in them. 

"Except Harry wants it to be different. I know he does. Like, when we first- first started being how we are now, he thought we were...he thought I was his boyfriend. Called me that to his mum and sister and everythin'. Except then he let the word slip out in front of me." 

Louis laughed humorlessly, running a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly. He bit the inside of his cheek, puckering the skin and hissing in air through his teeth.   
"I freaked out, Zayn. I froze and I bolted out of his house and I didn't contact him for three whole days. He texted me, called me, came to my house a few times. And I ignored him. I ignored _my Harry_ because he called me his boyfriend and I can't handle labels." 

Louis' voice cracked and he bowed his head, the tears finally slipping down his cheeks. He gasped slightly, scrubbing at his cheeks roughly with the back of his hand. He shook his head a few times, unable to stop crying. Staring back at Zayn, he squared his shoulders back. Proud. Defiant. Terrified. Breaking, before Zayn's very eyes. 

"I can't do it, Zayn. I can't make him mine, fully and completely mine, because he'll leave. Or I'll leave first, because I'm a fatherless fuck up who's afraid of commitment. Or we'll go off to uni, promising we'll stay together. But then we'd gradually drift apart and meet new people and then suddenly we'd break up over a fucking text or something. "

Louis paused to drag a hand down his face, his mouth trembling. Pressing his lips together so tightly that they turned white, he spoke again. 

"I don't want to break him. I'd rather have him, halfway, indefinitely, than lose him." 

Pause. Breath. 

"I don't want him to break me either. But I think he already is, even though it's not his fault. It's always, _always_ mine. It's mine, because I'm fucking in love with him and I can't call him my boyfriend!" 

Louis giggled somewhat hysterically, kicking at the concrete beneath his feet. He turned his head and glanced in the window, looking in at the three boys left in the sitting room. His face softened as he saw Harry, curled up on the couch with a blanket over his lanky body. He was still enraptured, watching _The Notebook_.   
"I'm in love with him, Zayn." Louis whispered. "I'm in love with his messy curls and his stupid jokes and his shiny eyes and his smile that makes my stomach drop out from under me. I think I've been in love with him since the first time I kissed him. Harry- Harry makes me believe in the kind of love in those dumb films he watches. I look at him, and I could see myself writing our life story down, to be read and cherished and remembered. Except, our story would be a shit one, a grand total of one sentence: _Louis was a piece of shit and Harry moved on because he deserved better_." 

"Louis, don't say that- you're not-" Zayn started, his voice raspy.   
"Don't say I'm not, because I am. He's the best goddamn thing that ever happened to me and I'm pushing him away, haven't even told him I love him. This is a stolen season, me and Harry: it'll be over come June, as soon as we graduate. Everything is ending, and as soon as it does, he won't be my Harry anymore. He won't be my Harry ever again, he'll be somebody else's. Somebody better, somebody kinder, somebody who can love Harry the way he deserves to be loved." 

Louis exhaled, finally spent. He bowed his head, his fingers interlocking with Zayn's. Zayn slowly reached over and put a hand on Louis' back, rubbing his palm up and down his spine.   
"I hate him so fucking much." Louis spat out through gritted teeth.   
"Who?" Zayn asked in confusion. One second, they'd been talking about love, and now hate. Did Louis hate Harry because Harry made Louis fall in love?  
"Me fuckin' dad." 

Ah. 

That made much more sense. 

"I hate him because he abandoned my mum, with a three year old kid to support. I hate him because no boy should be the man of the house at age ten. I hate him because he hasn't been part of my life since I was a toddler, but he keeps affecting me. I can't fall in love properly because it makes me want to bolt: I have this crazy urge to run away as fast as my legs will carry me, and I dunno if it's hereditary or simply something I've been taught, but I do know that I get it from him." Louis ranted, his eyes burning with anger. But then he calmed again, looking back at Harry. He weakly raised a finger to the glass of the window, pointing at him. 

"But mostly," Louis exhaled. "I hate him because he's the reason my boy is unhappy. He's the reason I can't be Harry's, even if he's mine. And out of everything my dad has or hasn't done, that's what I hate him the most for." 

Louis finally fell silent, his face crumpling. He turned to Zayn and he opened his arms, the other boy flying into them. Louis cried silently into the front of Zayn's jacket, his whole body shaking. Zayn held him tight, resting his chin on the top of his head and letting him have a few minutes to break. He mumured soft nothings down to Louis, hoping it calmed him down. 

"Louis, look at me." Zayn said gently when Louis inevitably tensed and tried to break out of the hug. He reluctantly looked up at Zayn, his cheeks wind bitten pink and eyes swollen from crying.   
"Wot?" Louis mumbled, his Doncaster accent slipping out.   
Zayn brushed away a stray tear lingering on Louis' cheekbone. He smiled down at him, straightening out his rumpled sweater.   
"He's always gonna be your Harry." Zayn said firmly. "In the future, you might be separated by time, or distance, or a million and one other things, but these days _right now_ are always gonna be yours. The days that you spent loving him. And I don't think you should spend a single one of those days sad, do you? Harry doesn't make you sad, the situation does, but you shouldn't let it." 

Louis' eyes peeked over Zayn's shoulder, and he knew that he was looking at Harry. He gave himself a tiny shake, nodding his head.   
"He makes me happy." Louis whispered. "He makes me so happy, sometimes I think I'll burst."   
"Good. That's how it's supposed to feel, I think. Now, let's go back in, eh? I'm freezing my balls off out here."   
Louis snickered, his eyes lighting up. He suddenly threw his arms around Zayn, tucking his head into the crook of Zayn's neck.   
"Thanks for letting me- erm- letting me do this." Louis said, his voice wobbly. "I couldn't be in there, watching him be _him_ , and not- not cry. So uh- thanks mate."   
"Anytime, Lou, anytime."   
"This isn't happening again."   
"Whatever you say."   
"And if you ever tell anyone I cried, we're no longer friends." 

Zayn caught his eye, grinning. Louis slowly smiled too, slinging an arm around Zayn's shoulders, leading him back into the house.   
"C'mon, Malik. Let's get some hot cocoa and coo over Niall Horan's eyelashes." 

 

They headed back inside, Louis hurriedly shutting the door behind him to keep the cold air out. Louis vaulted over to Harry, throwing himself down on top of him and burying his face into his neck. Harry looked surprised, but still, his arms encircled Louis' waist, a laugh bubbling up deep in his chest. 

Zayn smiled fondly at the sight, taking off his jacket and hanging it up before walking back into the sitting room. He saw Niall sitting on the same couch as before, and the Irish boy patted the seat beside him, beckoning for Zayn to sit down. Zayn noticed, with quite a bit of satisfaction, that his guitar was still clutched in his hands. Zayn nodded and sloped over to Niall, sitting down next to him. The blonde gave a tiny smile, the corners of his mouth peaking up. 

He was so beautiful. Zayn's hands longed to draw him almost as much as they longed to touch him. 

"Cold out there?" Niall asked conversationally, taking in Zayn's cold complexion. "Your cheeks are almost as pink as mine."   
"Freezing, man." Zayn muttered, rubbing his hands together to warm them. Niall reached over and held Zayn's hands between his two smaller ones. He rubbed his thumbs over the cold skin of Zayn's palms before bringing them to his mouth and blowing on them to warm them up. 

Zayn could feel a warm blush creeping up his neck, embarrased by Niall's sudden intimacy. His breath tickled Zayn's skin but he didn't pull his hands away. He glanced at Niall curiously, tilting his head to the side.   
"Why're you so intent on keeping me warm?" he asked, desperately wanting to know. "First the jacket, now this- why?"   
Niall looked up at him, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. He was still clinging to Zayn's chilled hands, and he fiddled with his index fingers.   
"I know what it's like to feel numb, I guess." 

Before Zayn could ask what that meant, Liam's voice sounded,   
"Lads, I've an idea." he said eagerly. "There's this game, right, called "Never Have I Ever." I played it at a party a few weeks ago with Sophia and her friends, it's good fun! Might be a bit better while intoxicated, but I think we could make it work." 

Okay, so from what Zayn could surmise about this game from what Liam told them, the primary objective is to embarrass the fuck out of every other player. Everyone has to hold up their hands, ten fingers up in the air. Going around in a circle, each person playing states something they have never done, and if anyone else has done it, they have to put a finger down. So clearly, the last person standing wins.

Oh, Zayn was gonna have fun with this. He knew so much about these boys, and there wasn't much they haven't done. True, they knew a lot about him as well, so the results of this could get quite interesting. The boys assembled on the floor, Niall gingerly kneeling down beside Zayn. Louis rubbed his hads together eagerly, looking at all of them with a mischevious glint in his blue eyes.

"Okay, so host first, right?" Louis drawled from his place on Harry's lap. "Right! So, never have I ever....gotten so drunk that I forgot I was dating a girl and snogged a fit boy." 

Fuck. 

Zayn shot Louis a glare, lowering his index finger. He'd done that on purpose, knowing that Zayn's one and only relationship ever had ended because his girlfriend had found him, very enthusiastically, sucking face with another male. Everyone chuckled, Niall included. His elbow knocked against Zayn's as he giggled, pressing a fist to his mouth. 

"I didn't forget." Zayn protested half heartedly. "I just chose to- momentarily ignore the fact she existed."   
"Zayn, I don't see how that makes it any better." Louis replied dryly, and okay, yeah, it didn't.   
"My turn!" Harry sing-songed, his eyes sparkling. "Never have I ever- worn a clown costume in the middle of getting a blow jo-"   
"Hazza, my mother and four younger sisters are in the next room over." Louis stammered hurriedly, his voice strained.   
"But Louis, don't you remember? Your mum walked in on it and I had to pretend I was retying your clown shoe-"   
" _Hazza_." Louis groaned. "If I put a finger down, will you please stop?"   
"Yes, and maybe next time you won't make fun of Zayn for something that happened ages ago." 

Zayn beamed in Harry's direction, thankful somebody was on his side. Louis rolled his eyes but compliantly put a finger down.   
"So, clowns, eh?" Niall said suddenly, turning to look at Louis. "Never hear o' that one."   
"It was last Halloween!" Louis burst out, indignant. "I was a clown, Harry was a lion, it was all very nice-"   
"Except for your mum, and everythin'." Niall said, a grin blossoming across his face, and really, it just got worse from there. 

"Never have I ever ran home from the pond starkers because my briefs were stolen."   
"Never have I ever stolen my mate's briefs just to be an asshole."   
"Never have I ever cried over Les Miserables."   
"Never have I ever gotten high and asked if our universe might just be a speck on a dandelion."   
"Never have I ever won a school competition for jumping rope." 

It's just a thing with best friends. They know everything about one another, and yet judge nothing. Probably because they were present while "everything" was happening. It's- it's nice. Zayn knew these boys would continue to know everything about him, that someday they'd be at weddings and embarrassing one another in best man's speeches, or telling a whole new set of teenagers all the exploits they got away with. Sitting there, in Louis' living room, Zayn knew that they wouldn't drift apart during university, that they'd stay just as close as the are now. 

Zayn knew he'd found friends for life. And he didn't care that he was now down to one remaining fingers, because if anyone knew all those things about him, he was glad it was these boys. 

"Never have I ever been kissed under a mistletoe." Liam said, and all Louis, Harry, and Zayn swore as they got knocked out of the game. Looking around, Zayn studied the players left. Liam had a meager one still up, whereas Niall had six. They didn't know as much about Niall as each other, but he'd still been slowly lowered in the game, on the more generic questions. 

Zayn hoped that someday, he'd know everything about Niall. 

"Just you and me, Nialler." Liam said cheerily. "And it's your go. Use it wisely, becsuse I've got a few that might trip you up."   
"Never have I ever been kissed." Niall said, without batting an eye.

Well. 

Zayn hadn't expected him to pull that one. 

Maybe he was just really passionate about winning?

Liam blinked a few times, before closing his open mouth and letting his hand drop down to the floor. There was a silence for a few seconds, but then Harry, oblivious as usual, clapped Niall on the back excitedly.   
"Niall won!!" he exclaimed and Zayn had to hold back a laugh, because he really, really wished Niall had lost. Because maybe then, Zayn wouldn't feel so guilty for wanting what he so desperately wanted.

 

Walking home that night, with his new sketchbook under his arm and padding on his knees and elbows (even though he was a pedestrian for once), Zayn got a text from Louis. 

_Malik, if you don't deflower Niall Horan's mouth soon, I'm going to, just to put the poor thing out of his misery. And me kissing Niall wouldn't be conducive to Operation Leprecuan, so please, for all our sakes, put your goddamn tongue down his throat already._

_I'll do that whenever you tell Harry you love him_

_.....Quite necessary, Zayn. Please do something anatomically impossible to yourself_

_Happy birthday, Lou ;)_

_Merry Christmas, Zaynie :DDDDDDD_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Zouis Brotp feels? I regret nothing (just kidding: I regret so, so much)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people who are reading this! New chapter :D Sorry it took ages, I've been busy. Enjoy! 
> 
> (And the song used in this chapter is "Shut Up and Dance" by Walk the Moon...Look it up if you wanna cry with me XD

The first morning of the New Year, Zayn wakes up shirtless, lying in an unknown bed, in a house he doesn't remember arriving at. 

He looks up at the ceiling of whatever room he's in, already feeling a dull pounding in his temples. How hard did he party last night? How much alcohol did he consume? Blimey, it must've been enough to flood a medium sized nation, given how dry his throat is. Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, knowing today is going to be literal shit on a stick. 

As he collects himself, Zayn feels uneasiness deep in the pit in his stomach: a worry that he can't put a name to, can't help but feel. Something must've gone wrong last night for Zayn to be feelinglike this. Usually, when he's hungover, he's irritable and tired and overall, in a rotten mood. But Zayn's never been so- so anxious after waking up from a night of probably regrettable decisions. It seems like something precious got destroyed, and Zayn can't figure out why, and that scares him more than anything else. 

Zayn sits up, taking stock of everything. Okay, two legs. Two arms. Good. All fingers and toes are there as well, and that's always a plus. So, as of right now, all Zayn is missing is his shirt, and that could be gone for any number of reasons. Maybe he did a keg stand and took it off for better access. Maybe it was super hot in whatever house this is and he'd have passed out if he'd kept it on. 

....Or maybe Zayn hooked up with a stranger. 

Given that he just noticed that there's a boy he doesn't know lying in the bed beside him, that's looking like the best possibility. 

Shit. 

Zayn slides out of the bed, his bare feet cold against the hardwood floor of the room. He glances sidelong at the sleeping boy, narrowing his eyes. He's seriously hoping they didn't sleep together, just because it would complicate a fuck-ton of things. Primarily Niall things. Like...If Zayn did just wantonly bang this stranger, does that mean his feelings for Niall aren't genuine? Did everything he wants to have with Niall get wiped away by the first pretty face that came along? Is Zayn actually the shittiest person to walk the earth? 

Zayn feels like he's going to get sick. He doesn't deserve Niall: sweet, wonderful, loving Niall. He doesn't deserve to be Niall's first kiss, his first anything. He should have so much better, somebody who won't try and climb into his pants just because he doesn't know how to be romantic. 

Zayn stands up, out of the bed, throwing his side of the duvet up to cover the mattress. His hands shaking, he pats the pockets of his jeans, trying to find his lighter and a single cigarette to calm himself with. Which, of fucking course, he managed to lose. Biting back a curse of frustration, he looks to the floor, scanning to find his goddamn shirt. Spying it underneath the bed, he scrambles to pick it up and wriggles his torso into it. Breathing it, he smells various scents off the fabric of the jumper: sweat, alcohol, and...And Niall. 

He catches a whiff of something that he's come to associate with Niall, some cologne and flowery shampoo and something that's just purely him. And then sudden tears are slipping down Zayn's cheeks, because he doesn't know what happened but he knows it's bad, and Zayn doesn't smell like Niall but his clothing does, and what the hell happened?

"Mornin'." a sleepy voice says, and Zayn nearly jumps out of his skin. Whirling around, he sees the nameless boy sitting up in the bed, his arms folded across his bare chest and a lazy smile across his face. Zayn notices, with a strong twinge of disgust at himself, that he's fit. He's toned, with tanned skin, warm brown eyes, and gingery brown hair.   
"Hiya." Zayn mumbles, not meeting the boy' s eyes.   
"Happy New Year." he says cheerily, with a crooked smile.   
"You too." 

Cue awkward silence. Zayn gives a tight-lipped smile, his hands still trembling. He's sweating and swaying on his feet and he just wants to crawl into his own bed and possibly never come back out. Finally, the question is too much for Zayn to hold, and it bursts out of him, unbidden.   
"We- we uh- we didn't....like...ya know....did we?" 

The boy gives a short laugh, but it doesn't sound annoyed. It just sounds friendly. He shakes his head, his hair swishing across his forehead, and Zayn breathes out for what feels like the first time this morning.   
"Nah, mate, I didn't get lucky with ya. I wish though, because you're basically the hottest person I've ever seen. But no, I only brought you up here so nobody would take advantage of you, because you were pretty sloshed, man. Crying over some Neil kid." 

Zayn's hearing suddenly shorts out, and he stops listening. He stares down at his feet, trying to steady his breathing. Everything is rushing back to him, in dizzing clarity. Flashes and images of last night flit through his head, and his stomach swoops as it comes together all at once. 

Oh no. 

No. 

_Niall._

And then Zayn is muttering out his goodbyes to the stranger, getting the fuck out of there as quickly as possible. He runs out of the room, a hand pressed to his mouth to keep from screaming. He's crying again: hot, ragged sobs bursting out of his body. He can't catch his breath, he feels like he's going to drown in his tears, because now he knows. 

Zayn knows what happened last night, and he knows that something precious was destroyed, and he knows that he won't be able get it back. 

***

 

_New Years,_ Zayn thought as he stepped into a house party, _Is such an overrated holiday._

It was barely ten o'clock in the evening, and people were already pissed out of their minds. He's been at this party for approximately five seconds, and he already saw chaos. People were jumping up and down on a couch like its a bouncy castle, somebody was currently screaming Fall Out Boy lyrics at the top of their lungs, even though a song by the Wanted was playing, and was somebody actually getting their belly button pierced on that coffee table over there?

Zayn was only at this damn thing because Niall asked him to be. He'd have much rathered staying in, drawing a bit, watching a Marvel movie maybe. But then Louis had wrangled five invites to "the best fucking New Years party in Britain", expecting all of them to be overjoyed at the prospect. Liam was actually pumped, because he's a bit mental as a partier, Harry was happy wherever Louis was, so of course he was up for it. Zayn really could've forgone his invite, but then they'd told Niall about the party and he'd come up to Zayn at lunch that day, with worried eyes and an anxious frown. 

"Zayn," he'd said hesitantly. "This party...it'll be safe, right? Like I'm assuming there's gonna be drinking and drugs involved, but you don't think anyone would get hurt, do you? Like seriously hurt?" 

And well, that's really all Niall had to say. 

"Niall, I don't know about everyone at that party." Zayn replied honestly. "But I do know that Louis, Harry, Liam, and you will be safe."   
"How?" Niall asked, his voice soft.   
"Because I'll be there." 

And right now, the memory of the smile that bloomed across Niall's face in that moment was all that was gonna get Zayn through this gathering. He glanced over at Niall to his left, and he wasn't smiling now. He was biting down on his bottom lip, looking like he'd draw blood. He stared around at all the people, his eyes out on sticks. Zayn reached over and put a hand on the space between Niall's shoulder blades.   
"You alright, Ni?" he asked, leaning down so his mouth was closer to Niall's ear so he could hear him. Niall nodded shortly, his hands tapping against his thighs. On a whim, Zayn suddenly reached down and stalled his hand, holding it tightly. Niall clung onto his arm gratefully, his fingers digging into the bony joint of his elbow. 

Louis looked back at the two of them as their group pushed their way to the middle of the living room. He widened his eyes at Zayn, grinning wickedly, and Zayn just hoped Niall didn't see it. They reached the middle of the room, where all the furniture had been pushed aside to form a makeshift dance floor. Teenagers were thronged together, a heaving sweaty mass of bodies.   
"Lads!!!!" Louis bellowed, turning around and dragging Liam and Harry back around to form a huddle with Zayn and Niall. "This could very well be the greatest night of our current lives. We must vow to remember it, to preserve it for posterity, to be retold among the generations. If we ever lose each other tonight, meet in the middle of the dance floor, because that's most likely where I'll be, getting drunker by the second. Okay, ready...one...two....three... _slay_!" 

At the last second as they all moved, Louis grabbed Harry's hand, holding him back from leaving. He held Harry by the collar of his shirt, leaning up and ramming their mouths together messily. It's sloppy and longing and just enough PDA to make Zayn avert his eyes.   
"And Mr. Styles." Louis said, his voice low. "I'll see you at midnight."   
Harry giggled mischeviously, pecking a tiny kiss to the tip of Louis' nose, and Zayn could guess who was gonna start the New Year with a bang. 

 

Half an hour and two beers later, Zayn was in a significantly better mood. Everything was shiny and bright and hazy, and all the people around him looked prettier than they did thirty minutes ago, and he felt good. He didn't know what he was drinking, but it burned in his throat and pooled in his stomach and made everything seem better, so he kept knocking it back. He stumbled out of the kitchen, shoving his way through a crowd of teens that have seemed to have formed a small mosh pit. Where was he meant to meet the others boys again? He wanted to dance, because whoever was picking the music at this party knew their shit. Zayn had liked every song chosen so far, which was rare for him. He felt the beat drumming in his chest, urging him forward, egging him on. 

Remembering where the hell he was meant to go, Zayn did a sharp 180, and sauntered over to the middle of the dance floor. And it wasn't hard to find his friends from there, because all he had to do was follow his ears: Louis' voice, screaming whatever lyrics were currently on, was louder than anyone else's.   
"ZAYN!" they all screamed as he came into view, grinning goofily at the sight of him. Harry was starry eyes and rosy cheeked, looking like an octopus clinging to Louis' body. He was all lanky arms and legs and honestly, the boy was almost too tall to be allowed. His cheeks looked sticky with something, Zayn seriously hoped it was beer and not a body fluid, but he was smiling so hard, it looked like his face would split in two. In turn, Louis looked like a human disco ball. His entire body was covered in glitter, clinging to his skin and clothes. Some had even wound up on his face, sticking to his eyelashes, lips, woven in his hair. Every time he moved, the lights of the room danced across his body, sending tiny rainbows out in every direction. 

An octopus and a disco ball. What a fucking pair. 

"Should I ask?" Zayn said, raising his voice to be heard over the music and surrounded people. "Do I even want to know?"   
"Glitter is happiness." Louis babbled, his voice higher than normal and accent thicker. "I'm spreading happiness around. I'm like a fucking fairy of glittery happiness."   
"Glittery rage, more like." Liam cut in, sending his sunny smile Zayn's way. "He almost beat this one poor kid into dousing him with his bucket of glitter."   
Zayn didn't question why Louis did this to a stranger. Zayn didn't even question why a stranger had a bucket of glitter in the first place. Zayn just laughed and gulped back some more beer, because on NewYears, that's all you can really do. 

"Where's Niall?" he asked Liam, turning around and looking for the blonde. "Has he been dancing with you guys?"   
"Nah, mate." Liam said with a shake of his head. "He's on that couch over there. Doesn't seem too enthused."   
Zayn looked to his left and saw Niall sitting on the couch. He was leaning as far as possible to the right, trying to avoid the snogging couple on his other side. He looked mighty uncomfortable, not drunk at all, and way too young to be at a party like this. 

And that wouldn't do at all, really. Niall was too beautiful to not be smiling like everyone else. 

Zayn stumbled his unsteady way over to Niall, setting his red cup down on the coffee table. He looked down at where Niall was sitting, feeling his heart hammer against his ribs. Was it meant to beat that low down? Zayn didn't know nor care.   
"Niall." Zayn slurred, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. "Why aren't you dancing, Niall?"   
"Hi, Zayn." Niall said softly, shifting even further away from the teens swapping spit inches away from him. "And I'm no good at it, so...I just don't. I'm fine here, watching all the goings-on, really." 

Whatever song playing ended, the final bars fading away to leave a few moments of silence. There was a brief break in the music, letting everyone catch their breath. Which was very welcome, because now Zayn didn't have to raise his voice for Niall to hear him.   
"Everybody can dance, Ni. You've just gotta find the right rhythm."   
Niall looked back up at Zayn, a fond smile lingering on his lips. His eyes were crinkled at the sides and he looked blurry around the does, like a charcoal painting that had been purposely smudged.   
"You're quite philosophical this evening. How much have you had to drink?"  
"Just two beers." Zayn said, somewhat defensively. "Not that much."   
"You're a lightweight then." Niall said with a delighted grin. "Can't hold your drink."  
"Can too!"   
"Big, bad boy on campus Zayn Malik is a lightweight. I bet you could get drunk off apple cider."   
"Well, I don't know what's in this." Zayn admitted, picking up his cup and sloppily showing Niall the contents. "It might be apple cider, I dunno." 

Niall took the cup from him gingerly, sniffing at the drink. He pulled a face at the smell, coughing slightly.   
" _Not_ apple cider, Z."   
"Ah well. It tastes alright."   
Niall hesitated from handing the drink back to him, looking at it clutched in his hand. He glanced back at Zayn, a question in his eyes and on his lips.   
"Can I try some? Just a bit? I mean, only if you don't mind some germs and stuff-" 

_Considering that I've thought about kissing you so hard that both our lips are raw,_ Zayn thought, _I'm pretty sure I can handle your mouth on my cup._

He just nodded in silence, studying Niall carefully. The boy raised the cup to his mouth, looking at Zayn before he took a sip.   
"Safe, right?" he asked, his voice small.   
"Always." he replied, patting him clumsily on the shoulder and Niall gave a small smile. The sunbeam was flickering back to life. He took a sudden gulp of the drink, coughing as he swallowed.   
"Jesus." Niall sputtered, holding a hand to his mouth as his eyes teared up. "What the bloody hell is in that?"   
"I told you, I don't know!" Zayn said merrily, and Niall looked up at the ceiling, laughing slightly.   
"Christ, what've I gotten myself into?" 

Zayn had a question. And usually, he could hold back his curiosity, bite down on his lips and keep the question from slipping out. Except tonight, alcohol had loosened his mouth and his inhibitions were lower than they'd ever been, if not all gone, and Zayn just wanted to know, so why shouldn't he?  
"Why tonight?" he asked. "You've never drank before, so why tonight?"   
Niall blinked up at Zayn, like a wise old owl or some shit, shrugging his shoulders.   
"It's New Years and I'm feelin' brave, I'suppose-"

The music had started up again, drowning out whatever Niall said next. Everybody gave a scream that sounded like a herd of banshees and ran right back onto the dance floor, so apparently, this song was popular. Zayn looked at Niall hopefully, biting down on his bottom lip. He swayed back and forth, his legs beginning to pump to the beat.   
"Wanna feel a bit more brave?" 

_We were victims of the night, the chemical, physical kryptonite._

 

Niall peered over Zayn's shoulder, looking unsure. He stared back at Zayn, and then shook his head hurriedly.   
"Too many people." he mumbled. "They'd laugh at me, because I look like a headless chicken when I dance."  
"C'mon Niall." he said cajolingly. "It'll be fun."   
"I'm claustrophobic." Niall replied. "Look at all those people dancing. Lots of people = Panic attack = Niall ruins New Years."   
"We'll find an open space and dance there."   
"We?" Niall asked suddenly.   
"Yeah, we. You and me."   
"Oh." Niall said in surprise, and what the fuck had he thought Zayn meant?  
"Did you think I was gonna abandon you as soon as we got out there or something?" 

Niall's silence meant that that's _exactly_ what he'd thought and Zayn had never felt shittier. He crouched down in front of Niall, steadying himself by holding onto Niall's kneecaps. He looked at him seriously as he rested in chin on Niall's knee. The lights of the room were giving Niall a sillouhette, dancing all around him and making his skin different colors and tones. 

_Helpless to the bass and faded light, I knew we were bound to get together, bound to get together._

"Please Ni?" he asked. "I won't ditch you, I swear. I wanna dance with you."   
Niall smiled at that, and slowly, the hand clenched into a fist on his knee loosened. 

"Okay petal, for you." Niall whispered, holding out his hand to Zayn. Zayn reached up and just took it, holding on tightly. He stood and Niall did too, looking nervous but determined. They stood there holding hands for a few moments, looking for a place to go. Where could they dance that wouldn't be too crowded? Because Niall would not be having any panic attacks on Zayn's watch. 

There was always right in the middle, of course. Contrary to belief, there's probably the most space there, instead of around the sides where everyone is fighting for a place. Pointing to the place, Zayn began to walk, tugging Niall along behind him. 

_She took my arm, I don't know how it happened._

"Where are we going?" Niall asked worriedly as Zayn and he shoved their way through the hordes of people. "Zayn?"   
Zayn didn't reply, too focused on getting where they needed to be. Shoving past a grinding couple that was their last obstacle to the centre, Zayn gripped Niall's arm tighter, giving a gentle pull so he stumbled into the middle of the room with him. Niall looked around himself, seeming to not know how he'd gotten there. 

_We took the floor and she said..._

"I still can't dance, Z."   
"Doesn't matter." Zayn replied, stretching his arms above his head to get loosened up.   
"Like...I don't even know how to start."   
"Watch me then. I'm no good either, but we can look like idiots together." 

_"Oh, don't you dare look back. Just keep your eyes on me."_

Zayn started to dance recklessly, doing fuck knows what with his body and probably looked like a complete tit doing it. Niall laughed, his _ahahahaha_ blending in perfectly with the song. He still wasn't moving though, just standing there with his arms wrapped around his stomach.   
"You're sparing my feelings. I'm sure you're a better dancer than that." Niall called, the amusement clear in his voice.   
"I promise, I'm really, really not." Zayn said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. 

_I said "You're holding back."  
She said...._

Niall started to bounce on his feet a bit, swaying from left to right. But it still wasn't enough. He wasn't loose enough, wasn't reckless enough. He just needed to _let go_ , and bopping around on his toes wouldn't do that. Slowly, Zayn advanced toward him, getting just enough into his personal space that it now looked like they were actually dancing together. Niall's eyes flicked up to look at him, sweeping across his features before dropping back down to his feet.   
"I'll probably look stupid."   
"No you won't. I promise you won't. And have I ever lied to you?"   
"No." Niall said softly. "You've never lied to me."   
"Well then." Zayn said with a smile. "I think that you should-" 

Slowly, he reached down, letting Niall see all his movements. Zayn touched Niall's hips, and when the other boy didn't jolt away, he pulled him closer, their chests bumping together. Niall looked up at Zayn, equal parts terror and excitement swimming in his blue eyes. Zayn held him tightly, their bodies synching up to the beat of the song and each other.   
"You think I should what?" Niall asked, his voice tight. 

_Shut up and dance with me._

"Shut up and dance with me." 

Niall giggled, starting to move his waist languidly, rocking marginally against Zayn's. Zayn stayed still, just letting Niall find his own rhythm. Niall reached up and wrapped his arms around Zayn's neck, pressing his cheek against Zayn's chest, right over his heartbeat. Hesitantly, Zayn circled his hips around, trying to gauge Niall's reaction. He stiffened slightly, but didn't pull away, his bony fingers gripping onto the collar of Zayn's tank top.   
"See, told ya you could do it." Zayn said encouragingly.   
"Y-yeah, guess so." Niall mumbled back, breathless. 

Niall's body was warm and pressed flush against Zayn's, and Zayn knew he was getting turned on, because he's human, and he's drunk, and Niall is hot, okay. Zayn had expected that to happen, he certainly wasn't a blushing virgin. So he just let it happen, bowing his head down and leaning his forehead on hollow of Niall's collarbone, feeling hormones and pure lust run through him. He wouldn't let it get too far, they were only dancing, after all. He'd known what to expect as soon as he'd asked Niall. He pressed closer, pushing and bumping his hips against Niall's erratically. 

But what Zayn didn't expect was to hear Niall _moaning_ as Zayn leaned closer to his chest. He was gasping softly: quiet keens, low in his throat. He was pink in the face, unable to meet Zayn's eyes, but he was still holding on, grabbing desperately at whatever part of Zayn he could touch. Zayn suddenly rutted his hips up, causing Niall to groan again, louder this time.   
"Zayn." he said weakly. "Zayn, _ah_ , Zayn." 

Zayn stalled, looking down at Niall anxiously. He peered back up at him, his eyes unfocused and dilated. He rested his hands on Niall's hips, stopping both their movements.   
"You alright? We can stop." Zayn said hurriedly. "Let's go sit back down, yeah?"  
"No!" Niall blurted out, reddening even more. "I'm fine, it felt fine, it felt _good,_ even if I can't dance but- But I'm trying to be brave, but I'm a wee bit terrified, and I don't want you to see me like that, but I also don't wanna stop dancing with you, so do you think we could maybe-"   
"Do something else?" Zayn finished for him, and Niall nodded quickly.   
"Yeah, something else would be good." 

Zayn unwound Niall's arms from his neck, holding both his hands tightly. Taking a few steps back from Niall, Zayn started spinning to the right. Niall quickly caught on and started to spin too, almost tripping over his Converse. They were richoeting around, a planet in orbit, everything else blurry and unfocused around them. They were like Jack and Rose below decks in _Titanic_ : beautiful, wonderful, mad. All Zayn could see was flashing lights and Niall's smile. 

_A backless dress and some beat-up sneaks; my discothèque, Juliet teenage dream._

Zayn could sense other people on the outskirts of their orbit pausing to stop and watch them spin. He felt Niall's grip on his hands slipping, and he held on tighter, both of them whirling faster and faster. Niall threw his head back and whooped joyfully, his voice ringing out like a bell. Zayn beamed, knowing that no amount of grinding could ever compare to this. Couldn't compare to the feeling of Niall's hands in his and his blonde hair shining like a beacon beneath the lights and his smile that hit Zayn like a punch to the face. 

Niall's foot hit a slippy patch of the floor, and he stumbled, skidding on his heels. He dropped his grip on Zayn and windmilled his arms to keep his balance. Zayn lunged forward and caught him, holding him by the elbows. Niall was staring up at Zayn adoringly, giggling and nuzzling his nose in Zayn's shirt. And Zayn couldn't move, locked in his light.   
"T'anks." he burbled, looking up at him with unblinking eyes. "T'anks, Zaynie." 

_I felt it in my chest when she looked at me: I knew we were bound to be together, bound to be together._

Zayn had never wanted Niall more. 

He wanted his crooked smile and his loud laugh and his bawdy jokes. He wanted his humming and his love of guitars and his singing voice, even though he'd never heard it. Zayn wanted his tender hugs and his shitty football skills and his genuine goodness. He wanted Niall's changing moods and his frowns and his worries. He wanted to be there when Niall needed to cry, and when he needed someone to scream at, and when he needed someone to hold him, because his mum wasn't around to do it. Zayn wanted all of Niall, the bad and good, to make the bad bearable and the good better. 

And Zayn was beginning to think that maybe Niall wanted that too. He was right there, his mouth inches away from Zayn's. It'd be so easy, too easy...Was Niall making it easy? Zayn put a hand on Niall's cheek, gently rubbing his thumb over his delicate cheekbone. He wasn't breathing, afraid if what could happen, afraid of the prepeice they were standing on. Were Zayn and Niall about to dive over together, clinging to each other as they fell? 

Or was Zayn going to jump alone? 

Before Zayn could make a move, do anything more with his fucking paralyzed limbs, he was hit on the side by a human cannonball of glitter.   
"ZAYNANDNIALL" Louis howled in Zayn's ear, almost blowing out his eardrum. "HOW ARE YA'S?"   
"Louis!!!!" Niall screeched cheerily, letting go of Zayn and flinging his arms around Louis' body. Zayn stifled a sigh, because did Louis know that he'd just squashed Zayn's best attempt thus far of completing Operation Leprecuan? 

"Haven't seen you all night, mate! How goes it?" Niall chirped, bouncing on the balls of his feet.   
"I'm on top of the mother fucking world, Nialler! This song is my life!!! C'mon, we need to dance some more. HARRY AND LIAM, GET THE FUCK OVER HERE." 

Materializing as if by magic, Liam and Harry swooped in, looking mischevious and dangerous and pissed off their heads. Louis beamed at them both, slinging his arms around their necks.   
"My boys." he slurred. "You're all my boys, ya know that? Best New Years of my fookin' life, and it's not even midnight yet! Let's dance, lads! Ni and Z were doing some spinny thing earlier, let's do that." 

Louis grabbed Harry's and Liam's free hands, blowing his fringe out of his eyes with his breath. Harry took Niall's left hand, swinging it back a forth, like two kids skipping or some shit. Liam grabbed Zayn's left hand, fumbling to hold on (Liam's dexterity was always terrible when he's smashed). And then Zayn slipped his fingers between Niall's, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the outside of his hand. Niall looked up at him again, a goofy smile on his face, and Zayn couldn't help but smile too. 

Louis began to spin, the others all following his lead. They spun and they spun and they spun, whooping and screaming and laughing like there was no tomorrow. As they moved, Zayn looked at them all, because he's a artist and he wanted to appreciate the pure beauty of the moment. They were blurred around the edges, like a photograph taken in motion. Louis was positively vibrating with life, looking like he'd never been hurt before, shining like the star he was. Sure, he had family problems, but who cared, because his family was all around him? Harry just looked in love: in love with Louis, with all the rest of them, with the song, with the entire world. Liam looks like he finally believed that he belonged somewhere. Like his hands fit perfectly in Harry and Zayn's, and that was okay, that was _right,_ because he wasn't ever meant to fit anywhere else. And Niall-

Niall was crying. 

Big, fat, sloppy tears coursed down his cheeks, making his skin shiny and red. He couldn't catch his breath, shuddering out a gasp every couple seconds, and Zayn didn't know what that was about. He looked at him, worried, and Niall shook his head furiously.   
"Happy." he mouthed, his voice drowned out by the music. "I'm happy." 

And Zayn guessed that made sense, because Niall was beaming through his tears, and he didn't drop Zayn's hand to wipe them away. Really, they were just five boys, in love with life and each other. Zayn was slammed into Liam's left side and tugged into Niall's, laughing uproariously. He almost fell six times and he might've sprained both his ankles and he doesn't think he'll ever have blood flow in his right hand again, because Niall was clenching it so tightly.

And Zayn doesn't think he'd ever been as happy before, and he doesn't think he'll ever be as happy again. He never wanted to stop spinning with these boys. 

_Oh, oh, oh, shut up and dance with me_

_Oh, oh, oh, shut up and dance with me_

_Oh, oh, oh, shut up and dance!_

 

More and more minutes passed, the last hour of the year tick-tocking away until there was only thirty minutes left. Zayn left the dancing, going to the kitchen and getting another round of drinks. He sloppily poured some beer into four cups, before pausing and grabbing another, filling it halfway. He'd just....give it to Niall. Not make him drink it or anything. He was just giving him the option. 

So Zayn was basically going to Hell, because he was corrupting the most clean-cut boy alive but- but maybe Niall wanted to be corrupted a bit? Zayn didn't even know what to think about him anymore. 

Zayn straightened back up, putting the beer down on the dingy kitchen table. He somehow balanced all the drinks in his arms, walking slowly back towards the living room of the house. Focusing his eyes on his feet to keep his balance and not topple over, Zayn didn't notice the person slamming into him until he was already on the ground, cheap beer pooling all around him and soaking into his jeans. 

His favourite jeans, goddamit. 

Zayn looked up, getting ready to curse whoever bumped into him out of it, and then was looking into the warm, inebriated eyes of his art teacher.   
"Miss. W." he said numbly, blinking up at her. "You're here. At a high school party."   
"Zeeee." she mumbled, reaching down a hand to Zayn and hauling him up. "How goes it? Having fun? Nice house, right?"   
"Ummm, yeah." Zayn said, mystified. "The floor is kinda fucked up from all the alcohol I just spilled on it-"   
"Don't think the owner'll care much."   
"Right." 

Miss. Waverly swayed on her feet, hiccuping, and Zayn gripped her arm, trying to keep her upright. She was hammered, like actual "I'm probably sweating spirits" level hammered. She inhaled deeply, running a black manicured hand through her tangled red hair.   
"Shit year, man." she muttered. "Like, really, really shit year. Can't wait for it to be over."   
His teacher looked up at him, her bloodshot eyes wet. She shook her head, pressing her index fingers to her temples.   
"Don't fall for beautiful, blonde Chemistry teachers, Malik. Too much pain. Promise me you won't."   
"I promise, Miss. W."   
"Well, yeah, you've already fallen for somebody else." she said, a hint of a grin flashing across her lips. "I saw you dancing with him, poor kid. Nobody can resist your rugged good looks and sexual aura of mystery, you fox." 

Zayn blushed, and she reached up, pinching him on the cheek affectionately. She sniffed suddenly, rubbing at her eyes.   
"Jenny got back together with her boyfriend on Christmas Day." she said, looking down at her feet.   
"Jenny?" Zayn asked, his brow furrowing together.   
"Ms. Tissons to you." she said tiredly. "She's back with that absolute prick of a boyfriend. Like remember I said he was allergic to her cat and that's why they were done? Well, unsurprisingly, that wasn't true. He cheated on her with some skank back in October, almost broke poor Jenny's heart, it did. I found her crying in the Chemistry lab more than once. But then, on Christmas Day, he came to her house and basically begged her to take him back. Said some shit like "All I want for Christmas is you," and now they're on item again." 

Zayn reached over and took the teacher's hand, giving it a squeeze. She smiled at him gratefully, holding back tears.   
"He doesn't deserve her anyway. Nobody does, least of all me. So, because of this, I decided to invite a shit ton of teens over to my house for New Years and drink away the fucking pain."   
"This is your party?" Zayn said incredulously. "The best New Years party in Britain is yours?"   
She smiled wryly, her crooked grin flitting up at Zayn.   
"How do you think all this alcohol got here? Malik, this is _tame_ by my standards. You should've seen me as at your age, Jesus Christ. My mum and dad thought I was gonna be in AA meetings by the time I was twenty."   
Zayn smiled, gripping her hand again. She patted him clumsily on the shoulder before looking back at the dance floor.   
"Enough about my shit love life. You might want to get your Blondie. Looks like he's dancing with some other bloke." 

Zayn's heart turned to lead as he whirled around, eyes narrowing as he peered at the crowd of people. He saw the bright blonde of Niall's head, shining through darkness. As his eyes refocused, he saw a guy clinging onto Niall like a leech. His chest was pressed against Niall's back, his arms wrapped around the Irish boy's waist. Head bowed into the slope of Niall's neck, the stranger muttered things into his ear. Clearly filthy things, judging by the redness of Niall's cheeks. 

Zayn just stared for a few moments, his limbs feeling like cement. What was happening? Was Niall _enjoying_ that? They were dancing far closer than Niall and Zayn had been, and that had proved too much for Niall, so how the hell was he dealing with this?

Or maybe it was just Zayn. Maybe Niall was wildly attracted to this random guy and it was just _Zayn_ that freaked him out. 

Rejection and disappointment crashed over Zayn like a wave, and he bowed his head, folding his arms over his chest and pinching the bones of his elbows. Before he could stop himself, he looked back at Niall and the boy, unable to tear his eyes away. The boy had turned his body so he was actually humping Niall's leg, his hands grabbing at Niall's chest, thighs, hair, anything he could touch. He was like a harpy: ready to devour Niall alive. Zayn felt sick to his stomach, watching Niall being used like that. His thin chest was heaving and his body looked drenched in sweat and he had a wild, panicked looking in his blue eyes- 

Niall was panicking. 

Niall was in the middle of a full-blown panic attack, and this fucker wasn't even noticing. 

And then Zayn was shoving his way through the people, throwing elbows left and right to get to Niall. Because no, that wasn't happening, Zayn had promised to Niall that he'd keep him safe, and right now, he was failing at that, and failing wasn't an option regarding that boy's safety.   
"Niall!" he called, his voice drowned out by the noise of the room. "Fuck- Niall, breathe buddy, okay?" 

But Niall was so caught up in panic, there was no way he would've heard Zayn, even if the room had been quiet. Zayn bit back another curse and kept shoving his way forward. Where the hell were the others boys? He kept moving and kept calling Niall's name, trying to pull him out of his own head. Niall didn't hear him, but thankfully, somebody else did. 

Liam's head popped up from behind a crowd of people, following the sound of Zayn's voice. He looked over to him, staring at Zayn worriedly.   
"What's wrong?" he mouthed, his brown eyes tense. "You alright?"   
"Niall!" Zayn said back, pointing at him dancing with the boy. He was only a few feet away from Liam. "Get Niall." 

Liam's eyes widened as he took in the situation and then he bolted forward. Using his bulkier frame, he was much more effective in shoving a pathway through the people than Zayn had been. In mere seconds, he'd reached Niall's side. Grabbing the harpy by the back of his t- shirt, he forcibly pulled him off Niall's body, giving him a rough shake. And then, he said, loud enough for Zayn to hear,   
"Get the fuck off my boyfriend." 

The stranger physically blanched at that, whitening beneath the lights. He gave a hurried shake of his head, stammering out apologies. Zayn couldn't blame him for that: Liam was muscular. If he'd yelled at Zayn like he had just now, Zayn would be terrified too. The stranger slipped away, disappearing among all the people. Zayn personally wanted to skin him alive and feed his remains to vultures, but that wasn't the priority right now. Niall was. 

Zayn finally made it over to where Niall and Liam were standing. Niall was being supported by the older boy, his entire body shaking. He looked at Zayn, his eyes wide and unable to stay still. Reaching out blindly to him, Niall tumbled into Zayn's arms, trembling against his chest.   
"Get me out of here." he gasped pleadingly. "Please Zayn, just- I can't breathe Zayn- get me out I can't I can't."   
Zayn held Niall against his body protectively with one arm. Using the other to push people out of the way, he staggered forward, with Niall clinging onto him and Liam moving behind them, keeping people off them.   
"I'm sorry." he whispered apologetically in Zayn's ear. "About calling him my boyfriend. But that piece of shit needed to get off him before I broke his fucking neck, and it was the only thing I could think of to do."   
Zayn just nodded, too focused on finding a quiet place to bring Niall. He felt a small, warm hand on the base of his spine and then he heard Louis' high voice, accompanied by Harry's deep one.   
"Over here." Louis said from Zayn's left. "There's a coat closet over here, bring 'im there, Zayn."   
"You're alright, Niall." Harry said calmly, the low tones of his voice soothing. "Zayn's got you, so of course you're alright." 

The five of them reached the coat closet, Louis reaching forward and pulling the door open. Liam and Harry guided Niall inside and then stepped back.   
"Who do you want in there with you, Ni?" Louis asked, his voice neutral. "It'd be a bit cramped with all five of us, so just one might be best. It's all about who you want, Nialler. Don't spare our feelings or anything."   
There was silence for a few moments, and then Niall's voice came forward from the dark closet, small and scared.   
"Zayn." 

And that just made sense. Because there's no place Zayn would rather be. 

Before he could go inside, Louis grabbed his hand, holding him back. He looked up at Zayn, his face more serious than Zayn had ever seen it.   
"Don't get too close in there, might set him off again. Touch him if he wants, but don't instigate the contact."   
"How do you know that?"   
"Me mum has panic attacks sometimes, you learn a bit."   
With that, Louis dropped his arm, letting him go in. Zayn stepped into the closet, enveloped in the darkness as the door closed behind him. All he could hear was the sound of Niall's labored breathing and the muted noise of the party outside. 

"Want light, Niall?" he asked, his voice hushed.   
Zayn took his silence as a yes and felt around the wall for a light switch. A string brushed the top of his head as he moved and Zayn reached up and tugged it. Dim light flickered into the room, and it took a few seconds of Zayn's eyes to readjust. He saw heaps and heaps of coats and shoes and various other items in the closet, and jeez, how much clothing did Miss. Waverly own? She wore a different thing to school everyday, Zayn knew that, but this was like borderline hoarding. And then he saw Niall, standing in the furthest corner of the closet, still trembling. 

Niall must've felt Zayn looking at him, because he lifted his head up, making brief eye contact with him. He colored slightly, the palor of his skin shifting to light pink. Wrapping his arms around his stomach, Niall bowed his head, biting down on his bottom lip.   
"Niall." Zayn breathed. "You're okay now. You're safe now."   
"Wouldn't get off me." Niall mumbled. "I asked him to, but he wouldn't." 

Niall rubbed his hands up and down his arms, as if he could still feel the boy on him. He shuddered, his whole body going with the motion. Zayn kept his distance, even though every part of him wanted to go and comfort Niall. But the last thing Niall needed right now was another invasion of his personal space, so Zayn stayed where he was, just watching him.   
"He-" Niall continued, his voice weak. "He kept talking about- about _things_ he wanted to do to me. Asked me if I wanted to go find a room and show him how well I danced by myself." 

Zayn felt rage fill him, hardening in his bones and ringing in his ears and making his vision blur. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. This was about Niall. Zayn couldn't leave and go get into a fight with the first person who looked at him wrong, even though that's what he wanted to do, because this was about Niall.   
"It wasn't like that when you danced with me." Niall said softly, looking at his Converse. "That was nice, I liked that."   
"Even if we felt a bit dizzy after." Zayn said with a gentle smile, trying to lighten whatever mood this was. "From the spinning and stuff."   
"Well, yeah, that." Niall said hesitantly. "But I meant- I meant the other bit too. Before the spinning. I liked that, too. You uh- you didn't scare me the way he did."   
"I'd never want to scare you, Niall."   
"You don't." Niall whispered. "I'm scared by a lot of things, and some of them have to do with you, but I've never been scared of you." 

Niall was slowly coming out of his corner, stepping into the murky light. Traces of glitter and tears shone on his cheeks, mingling so much that Zayn didn't know what was what. He was hunched over in on himself, looking like he was drowning in his sweater. He fiddled with the sleeves pulled over his hands, playing with the fraying edges.   
"You make me feel safe." Niall said, not meeting Zayn's eyes. "I'm not scared of anything when you're with me."   
"I shouldn't have left." Zayn said hollowly. "I shouldn't have left you alone, because then that boy wouldn't have gotten to you and-"   
"It's not your fault." Niall replied, shaking his head firmly. "I should be brave on my own. You shouldn't have to be my protector."   
"What if I want to be?" Zayn said right back, knowing that is what he wanted. He took a small step forward, shortening the distance between himself and Niall slightly. "Niall, what if I want to be?" 

Niall didn't respond, letting his hands drop to his sides. Silence enveloped them once more, things outside in the party quieting down. It must be getting close to midnight, Zayn realized. A slow song was playing, Zayn couldn't place it. But Niall clearly could, because he was humming it under his breath, drumming out the beat with his fingers on his thighs.   
"Why have you never sung in front of me?" Zayn asked suddenly. "You're always humming or tapping or mimicking guitar movements, but you've never actually sung and- and I've been dying to hear it, if I'm honest with you." 

Niall looked at him, considering his next words. He gave a small shrug of his shoulders, moving forward again, so the space between them was even less. He rubbed at the back of his neck with his hand before he spoke.   
"I've been meaning to for awhile." he admitted. "But it never seemed like a good enough time, or a good enough reason, to do it. And I guess- I guess the first time I sing to you, I want to get it right." 

Pause. Deep breath. Another step forward. 

"It has to be perfect, because you are." 

 

Outside, the countdown had started. A minute, fifty seconds, forty five. But it barely registered with Zayn. He was in his own little world, where all he could see was Niall slowly moving toward him, with fear on his face but hope in his eyes. A world where all he could hear was those words, over and over, repeated like a mantra, a prayer, a vow. 

_It has to be perfect because you are._

Niall was a foot away from Zayn now, gazing up at him. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright and he looked nervous, more nervous than Zayn had ever seen him look. He exhaled softly, reaching shaking hands towards Zayn's waist. He held onto him carefully, his thumbs touching the skin of Zayn's narrow hips. Outside, Zayn could distantly hear teenagers screaming out the last seconds of the year, but it was drowned out by the hammering of Zayn's own heart in his chest. 

_Ten_

Zayn let himself be pulled closer to Niall. He remembered what Louis had said about not instigating contact, so he let Niall move him to wherever he wanted Zayn to be. 

_Nine_

Their chest bumped together, Niall hooked his chin onto Zayn's shoulder. Their cheeks were pressed against one another, and Zayn could feel Niall breathing rattily. His inhales soon fell into synch with Zayn's exhales, and they breathed as one: barely able to breathe over what was about to happen. 

_Eight_

Niall slowly pulled his head back from Zayn's neck, looking up at him. Zayn felt imprisoned in his blue eyes. He was happily locked up. Every place he and Niall touched felt like it was on fire. 

_Seven_

Niall reached a hand up to touch the back of Zayn's neck: a soft, gentle pressure. Zayn felt his hands moving on their own accord, holding onto Niall's waist. The fire spread from his chest to his face, causing Zayn's cheeks to heat up. 

_Six_

Niall was shaking again, and now, so was Zayn. Niall's free hand touched Zayn's "Zap!" tattoo, and Zayn was thrown back to the time he'd first touched it: in the art room in November. A small smile grazed Niall's mouth, and was he remembering too?

_Five_

Was this always going to happen? Were Zayn and Niall meant to end up like this? Had Niall wanted to be Zayn's as long as Zayn had wanted to be Niall's?

Was it about to happen?

_Four_

"There's nobody else I'd want to be my first kiss, Zayn." Niall whispered, leaning up on his toes and bumping his nose against Zayn's. 

_Three_

Zayn froze, fear clutching his body in an iron grip. 

He couldn't do this. Not right now, not right here. 

Because this wasn't just a mere New Year's kiss to Niall: brought on by too much alcohol and joviality. This was the first time he'd ever kissed _anyone._ And he wanted it to be Zayn, he wanted to give that to Zayn, and Zayn wasn't able for it tonight. He was too drunk, too hyped up by everything that happened. And Niall was on the tail end of a panic attack, so who knew what he really wanted?

Niall might end up regretting it. 

Zayn didn't want Niall to regret his first kiss ever. 

Zayn didn't want Niall to regret him. 

_Two_

Niall's face was tilted up to Zayn's, his eyes closed tightly. He was leaning up towards Zayn, and he couldn't stop shaking, and he was so scared, and so young, and Zayn didn't want to do this to him. Didn't want to kiss him in a fucking closet, because they'd both spent enough time in closets. Niall's first kiss was supposed to be magical, and well, if that magic wasn't meant to happen with Zayn, then- 

Then Zayn wouldn't kiss him. 

_One_

Niall leaned up to press his mouth against Zayn's, and Zayn put a hand on his chest, holding him back. Stopping him.

Outside, a huge scream went up, welcoming in the new year with open arms and open hearts. But looking down at Niall, Zayn just felt like he was breaking. 

Niall stared up at Zayn, dumb struck, his mouth hanging open. He looked down at Zayn's hand on his chest and then back up at him, his forehead furrowed. He didn't understand. Zayn didn't either.   
"Zayn?" he asked smally. "Zayn, I don't- did I do something wrong?"   
"I'm- I'm too drunk." Zayn stammered brokenly. "I'm too drunk for this and you're young and you've just recovered from a panic attack and you've never even been fucking kissed and-"   
Hurt flashed in Niall's eyes, and instantly, his hands dropped from Zayn's neck. Tears shone in his blue eyes, and this time, they weren't from happiness. Niall looked like he was in agony.   
"You don't want to kiss me because I've never done it before?" he asked tensly, trying to wriggle out from Zayn's hands on his hips.   
"Niall-"   
"Because you think I'd be bad at kissing?"   
"No, Niall, that's not it at all-" Zayn said, begging hm to listen.   
"So you just don't want to kiss me, then." 

Niall succeeded in removing Zayn's grip on his waist, and he was stepping back from him, nodding resolutely. Zayn's hands dropped to his sides, because he wanted to explain, but he didn't know how and fuck, Niall looked ready to start sobbing any moment.   
"Niall, please just-"   
"No, Zayn, it's fine." he said hurriedly. "It's fine, it's fine, it's fine. I get it, I do."   
Tears slipped down Niall's cheeks and he made no move to hide them, too overwrought by everything. He inhaled shallowly, his hands gripping the hemline of his jumper tightly.   
"I was crazy to think somebody like you would ever want to kiss somebody like me." he whispered, sounding exhausted. He pushed past Zayn, avoiding Zayn's attempt to keep him from leaving. He reached the door and turned the handle, pulling it open slowly. Zayn was left looking at his back. He wanted to slam the door shut, keep him here, get Niall to understand why Zayn had just done what he did. 

But he couldn't, because all Niall knew was that he'd just been rejected by the first boy he'd ever tried to kiss, the first boy he had feelings for, the first boy he thought mattered, and Zayn couldn't even imagine that pain. 

Niall turned to his left, moving just enough so Zayn could see his face. He gave a watery smile, opening his mouth to speak.   
"Happy New Year, Zayn." he choked out. "I hope it's your best year yet." 

And with that, Niall rushed out of the room, closing the door behind him. And Zayn was left alone in the dark, knowing that something precious had just been destroyed, and he couldn't get it back.


	9. Chapter 9

“Liam, I fucked up.”  
"I'm sure it's not _that_ bad, Zayn-"  
"Li, imagine the biggest fuck up in the entire galaxy. Multiply that by a million, add approximately thirty two, and then you've maybe got a quarter of how much I fucked up." 

Liam looked down at Zayn earnestly from their place on Liam's couch. Zayn was stretched out flat, his head on Liam's lap. Liam was comfortingly running his hand through Zayn's hair: a reassuring, steady rhythm. As the memory of how much he fucked up resurfaces, Zayn shut his eyes, dragging his hands over his face. 

It's Saturday, January 5th. Their final semester of school was set to start on Monday, and Zayn had never felt more unprepared for anything in his entire life. Going to school would require seeing a certain blonde again. Going to school would require talking about certain events that had transpired. Going to school would require functioning properly, which Zayn hasn't really been doing for the past five days. As soon as he got home from the party, Zayn holed himself up in his room, barely speaking to anyone. He only came out to eat and go for the occasional smoke outside in his garden, because he actually wasn't up to do much else. 

Except then, he'd gotten a text from Liam, who of course, was wondering why Zayn had dropped off the face of the goddamn planet the moment midnight chimed on New Year's Eve. And because Liam's Liam and Zayn could never deny him anything, here Zayn sat, literally using Liam's legs a pillow, ready to bear his soul. 

Going back to school might be preferable to this, honestly. 

"What happened?" Liam asked, stopping the motion of his hand in Zayn's hair. He blinked down at Zayn owlishly, his brown eyes beseeching. "The last time I saw you was when you went into the closet with Niall at the party....and then I didn't see either of you come out again. Did something happen in there?"  
Zayn winced, turning so his face was pressed against Liam's stomach. He couldn't take his kind face and gentle, probing questions right now. And Zayn knew he wouldn't be able to bear the look of disappointment Liam would give him as soon as Zayn told him. Hiding like this was utter self preservation on Zayn's part.  
"It's more about- what didn't happen in there." Zayn mumbled, his voice muffled by the cotton of Liam's shirt.  
"What do you mean, Z?" Liam asked softly, his hand going to rub up and down Zayn's spine, finding the pressure points and kneading little circles against them with his fingertips.  
"Niall- Niall might've tried to kiss me at midnight." Zayn started, the words dying in his throat almost as soon as he's said them. 

Zayn could feel the hitch of Liam's breath, but he couldn't figure out if it was caused by excitement or fear. Probably fear, because Zayn had already told him something had gone wrong.  
"And?" Liam asked.  
"I might've stopped him from doing it." Zayn said hesitantly. Automatically, Liam's hands on Zayn's back stalled, and he was firmly turning him over so Zayn's forced to look up at him. He's staring down at Zayn incredulously, his mouth hanging open. If Zayn didn't feel like such an utter piece of fuckery, he would've found his shocked expression comical.  
"Why on earth would you do that?" Liam asked, baffled. "You've literally fancied him from the moment you met him, and obviously, he fancies you back, like _a lot,_ if he tried to kiss you. Especially considering that he's never kissed anyone and-" 

Liam slumped as he understood, his hands moving to massage Zayn's back again.  
"Oh Zayn." he sighed, his voice soft. "Zayn, you got scared."  
Zayn said nothing, chewing on the inside of his cheek. His throat felt tight and he didn't trust himself to speak: he'd break if he did. Because Zayn knew that Liam was right.  
"You got scared because it's Niall, and he's the only boy that you've ever been interested in as more than a hookup. He's special to you, and you wanted the kiss to be special, yeah? You couldn't have it be a kiss you could blow off or forget about because if it was, you would. You'd back out of anything serious that Niall wanted to have with you, because you've never been involved with anyone seriously."

Zayn nodded, swallowing. Liam smoothed his hair off his forehead, looking down at him kindly.  
"You got nervous for your first kiss too." he said, with a small, fond smile on his face. "Niall made you nervous."  
Zayn blushed, feeling his cheeks darken. Sure, there was a lot more to it than just that, but yeah, nerves had played a part too.  
"He's just- fragile." Zayn started. "Like- too fragile for me. It'd be easier if _one_ of us had ever experienced something resembling a relationship, because then one of us might know what the fuck we were doing. I think- I think that if I push him too hard, he'll break. He'd shatter into thousands of pieces, and I wouldn't be able to fix him. I'm an artist, but my hands are not gentle."  
Zayn gulped again, feeling emotion clog his throat. He's stuck between a rock and a hard place, because he wants Niall, he does, but he can't have him.  
"He's breakable." Zayn finished. "And I know I'd break him. I think he needs time to grow, and maybe someday- maybe someday we could give it another shot? I dunno, Li." 

Liam was still soothing Zayn, his hands not stalling. He was looking down at Zayn sadly, because now, Liam knew Zayn was right.  
"Niall doesn't think that you'd break him though, Zayn. He likes you. And right now, he's hurting. He's sad. And only you can fix it because-"  
"Because I'm the one who made him sad." Zayn said with a heavy sigh.  
Liam agreed with a nod, seriousness in his every feature.  
"I don't know if you should pursue being in a relationship with him anymore, Z. It might take him awhile to- to get close to you on any level, after what happened. I'd just let him know that you're sorry over it, and you don't wanna lose the friendship, and depending on how he's reacting, then tell him maybe you could be together later? If both of you were still up for it? Because I think you're right, the both of you probably need to grow." 

Zayn nodded, sitting up and leaning his elbows on his knees. Liam put his arm around Zayn, pulling him into his side. Zayn rested his head on Liam's shoulder, shutting his eyes tiredly.  
"How should I do it?"  
"Well, I doubt he'd answer a text or a call, so you should go to his house? It'd be the most straightforward way to talk with him, and a conversation like this should be face to face."  
"Yeah." Zayn mumbled, biting down on his lower lip.  
"It'll be alright, mate. You mean enough to him that I don't think he'll be upset for long."  
"Yeah, but what do I do? Pull up at his house on my bike and beg him to come down from his front porch, like fucking Romeo Montague?"  
"First part yes, second part no. Go to his house, knock on the door, and ask to speak with him. See where it goes from there." Liam said, standing up and pulling Zayn up beside him. He dusted off Zayn's shoulders, smiling at him cheerily.  
"And you're gonna go do it right now." 

 

Zayn stared up at the house in front of him, fear and trepidation weighing him down. Niall's home, which had seemed warm and inviting the first and only time Zayn had seen it, now seemed imposing: enormous and cold and unwelcoming. From his motorcycle, he looked at the dark windows that threatened to swallow him up. Zayn unclipped his helmet and hung it on the handlebar, letting out a shaky sigh as he did so. He'd gotten into the habit of wearing the helmet even when nobody else was riding with him. He'd actually started wearing it whenever he drove anywhere now, and the elbow and knee pads, too.

Niall Horan was affecting Zayn Malik in more than just emotions. 

Stepping off the bike, Zayn unstrapped the pads and balanced them on the seat. He shivered as the cold winter air hit him, hunching further down into his jacket. Starting to walk up the footpath towards the front door of the house, Zayn felt terror seize him. Maybe he could just go home. Maybe he could see Niall on Monday and they could forget anything had ever happened. Maybe Zayn could jump astride his bike and keep driving until he ran out of petrol and stay wherever he wound up. Nobody would hear from him ever again and he could happily spend the rest of his days alone. 

"Grow the fuck up, Malik." he muttered to himself, beginning the walk to the front door. The ground was slippy with ice beneath Zayn's feet and he's lucky he didn't fall. That'd be quite the way to show up, begging for Niall's forgiveness. _Hi Niall! I just cracked my skull open on the concrete and now I'm bleeding everywhere, sorry about that cream colored couch, maybe it'll come out in the wash? Also do you wanna talk about how I physically held you back from snogging me even though that's all I've wanted for the past two months? Yeah, let's talk about that as I bleed out._

Zayn made it up to the front porch in one piece. Scraping his feet on the doormat, Zayn paused before he made his presence known. The sturdy wood of the door blocked his view into the house, but Zayn could see through the side windows that no lights were on. Maybe he lucked out and nobody was home? But Zayn knew he'd never forgive himself if he left without even trying, so he took a deep breath, raising his hand to the door. Rapping his knuckles steadily against it, he waited for someone to hear his knock and open the door. 

As he waited, nerves coiled around Zayn's stomach, like a snake constricting around its prey. Part of him hoped it would be Niall opening the door, just to get this torment over with. But another part of him desperately hoped that it wasn't Niall, because Zayn was pretty sure he'd just slam the door right back in his face. And rightfully so, Zayn would probably do the same if he was in Niall's position, but- 

But it would still hurt. So yeah, Zayn hoped it wasn't Niall answering the door. 

Zayn held his breath as the door creaked open. He strained his eyes for anything that could give Niall away: a lock of blonde, a flash of blue eyes, maybe even his delicate hand on the door. But he couldn't tell, so all he could do was bow his head and wait. The door was fully open now, so Zayn looked up, meeting curious eyes of blue. 

His heart leapt in his chest because _fuck_ , blue meant Niall, Niall meant rejection, rejection meant pain, and Zayn was in enough pain as it was. But then a few things clicked with Zayn: these eyes had wrinkles surrounding them, little crow's feet that meant years and years of smiles, and it's not that uncommon for sons to have similar features to their fathers. 

"Hello." Mr. Horan started, looking down at Zayn. "Do you need something?"  
Zayn blinked a couple times, relief flooding his body because he hadn't just gotten a mouthful of door. He tried to find words, to say that he wanted to see Niall, that he wasn't a door to door salesman, literally anything at all. What is it with the Horans and making Zayn speechless?  
"I'm Zayn." he managed lamely. "Zayn Malik. Niall might've mentioned me to you, I dunno, maybe in passing- we're friends, and I know he's got loads of those so maybe not-"  
"Ah, Zayn!" the older man said, with utter delight in his voice. "Yes, yes I know who you are: Niall never stops nattering on and on about you. It's lovely to meet you, at long last. Seemed like I was never going to meet Niall's best friend." 

Zayn felt like he'd been hit by an iceberg as Mr. Horan wrung his hand enthusiastically before ushering him inside, out of the cold. Zayn dutifully shrugged off his jacket and gave it to Mr. Horan to hang up, at his insistence. As the older man moved around, Zayn observed him. He looked around his fifties, and he had scruffy salt and pepper brown hair, and ruddy cheeks. He seemed to smile as much as he breathed, and his smile transformed his face into one of complete joy. Basically, he was what Zayn imagined Niall would look like a few years down the line. 

And there he was, still smiling at Zayn like they'd been lifelong friends. Was that an Irish thing? Every Irish person Zayn had ever been exposed to (a grand total of two, now) seemed to exude warmth and friendliness. They put people at ease. They're like the nicer, better cousins to icy stiff upper lip British people.  
"I'm assuming Niall's invited you over, right? Funny that he didn't say a thing about it, normally he'd ask me-"  
"He- uh he didn't invite me. I just wanted to see him. Hadn't heard from him in a few days, like." 

Here, Mr. Horan frowned, more creases appearing in his face. He leaned over the countertop between Zayn and himself, resting on his elbows. Seriousness had bloomed across his face, making him look like Niall when he's worried about something.  
"I did notice Niall's been a bit out of the mouth these past couple days. Wouldn't tell me why, and acted like nothing was wrong, but I still think something's up. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" 

Zayn couldn't breathe as he shook his head, feeling disgusted with himself. He'd just met this lovely man, and already he was lying to him. But Zayn just couldn't tell him what had happened, because Niall hadn't. Mr. Horan might not even know if Niall was questioning his sexuality, because he mightn't have told him that either. So Zayn stayed mute.  
"I do worry about him, Zayn. It's been a very tough year on him, what with the move and everything. He was glad to see the end of last year and the start of this one. As was I, really. And he's told you about his mother?" 

Zayn nodded, putting his hands into the pocket of his jeans and looking down shyly at his feet. When he looked back up, he saw that Mr. Horan's eyes had filled with tears.  
"Niall took it very badly, which is to be expected. How could a child not take something like that badly?"  
His voice broke and he sighed heavily, brushing at the tears with an impatient hand.  
"I can't lose my boy too, so I fret about him. I'm worse than a mum, honestly. I was so worried about him when we first moved here, wanted him to make friends. I made him go to the park and play football with some local lads, even though he's kinda shite at football, bless him." 

Zayn stifled a laugh, biting down on the inside of his cheek. He knew how bad Niall was at football: that was the reason Zayn was in this whole mess. Mr. Horan smiled too, a fond smile at the thought of his son.  
"I'm glad he met you, Zayn." he said honestly, his face open and kind. "Your group of friends, but especially you, I think, have changed him. You've made him chattier and he smiles more and I've been hearing him composing songs on that guitar of his- and he's back to being more like the Niall he used to be. Before-"  
"Before his mum." Zayn finished for him, knowing it would hurt Mr. Horan to mention the divorce again. The man nodded, smiling gratefully. He reached over and clapped Zayn on the shoulder, walking around to his side of the counter.  
"Now, enough of my nattering on. I could talk for Ireland, I could." he said, accent thickening. (His accent was far thicker than Niall's. Maybe because Niall's had been diluted by Harry's posh Chesire and Louis' Doncaster and Liam's gentle Wolverhampton, and maybe even by Zayn's Bradford. The thought made Zayn smile.)  
"I think Niall's gotten out of the shower, so you don't have to wait anymore. I'll bring you up to his room." 

_Oh Christ._

"Maybe I should wait a bit longer." Zayn said, hearing the edge of panic in his voice make it go higher. "If he's getting dressed or anything-"  
"He always dresses in the loo after he showers. He's funny like that." Mr. Horan said affectionately, starting for the stairs. Zayn had no choice but to follow him, feeling like he'd been bludgeoned over the head with an axe. They walked up to the second landing together, Mr. Horan turning left and walking down the hall. Zayn dragged his feet, knowing that this was not how he'd wanted his first post- New Year's meeting with Niall to go. Mr. Horan paused at the final door on the right, in the corner of the house. He knocked quietly, saying,  
"Niall? There's somebody here to see you. Unlock the door, yeah?" 

Silence greeted Mr. Horan's words, and he frowned, jiggling the door knob.  
"Niall." he said, sharper this time. "Please. You know I hate locked doors."  
Zayn heard the _squeak_ of mattress springs as Niall got up off them and trudged over to the door, his feet dragging against the hard wood. The lock clicked open, but the door stayed shut as Niall walked away again. He clearly wasn't in the mood to be welcoming to any visitors he might receive. Mr. Horan offered Zayn a smile and then opened the door for him.  
"It's your mate, Zayn!" he called, trying to sound chipper. "You'll be happy to see him, I'm sure." 

More silence. Zayn gulped a bit and then stepped inside the room. Mr. Horan smiled one final time and then shut the door behind him, making Zayn feel proper trapped. Zayn turned around slowly and saw Niall lying on his bed, wearing comfy sweatpants and a jumper, his damp hair making a wet patch on the pillow beneath his head. His hands rested on his stomach and if Zayn hadn't known that he'd just been moving around, he would've thought Niall was fast asleep. 

It was so quiet in the room, Zayn could hear the wind whistling past the window outside. He didn't know how to break the silence, because what could he possibly say to start this off? Zayn had never done anything like this before, he's never had to, because countless of people who didn't matter to him at all tried to kiss him, and he'd let them. And the one person who did matter, he hadn't. 

"Hi Niall." Zayn said at last, his voice hushed. "You alright?"  
Niall didn't say anything in response, turning on his left side and leaning on his elbow so he could see Zayn. All Zayn could see properly was his eyes, and they looked dull. They're weren't their usual, merry, bright blue, laughing at the world. Zayn inhaled sharply as he realized that he'd done that. He had made Niall's eyes lose their shine. 

Niall continued to just watch him, his face wary. He tucked his knees up so he was scrunched into a ball on his side, and he looked so small. He looked cold too, water droplets dripping down from his hair onto his neck. He shivered, burrowing down on top of his duvet, and curling up on himself tighter, never tearing his gaze away from Zayn.  
"Why are you here?" he said softly, so softly Zayn nearly missed it.  
"To talk to you." Zayn replied nervously.  
"About what?" Niall asked, dipping his chin into the neckline of his sweater.  
"About- about what happened."  
"From what I remember, _nothing_ happened, so I don't think there's _anything_ to talk about." 

Zayn winced, and Niall saw it. For a moment, guilt flashed across his face, but then he went stoic again, stiffening. Nobody said anything else for a few moments, and it hurt Zayn too much to look at Niall, so he looked around the room instead. If it was any other situation, Zayn would've killed to be in here. And not from a sexual point of view, thanks very much. He just wanted to see what Niall's inner space was like. Seeing Niall's room would be like peeking into his head. 

It was a simple enough room, a blue duvet and curtains to match. A few posters littered the walls, bands Zayn didn't recognize or views of Ireland he'd never see pop up in his Google images search of the country. There was a desk crammed in the corner, loose pieces of paper all crumpled up around it and a beat-up guitar leaning against the side. That must be where Niall did his song writing. Zayn felt a small thrill down his spine as he realized that some of those songs could be about _him_. True, they're probably all angry and hate-filled, but the fact that Zayn might've inspired some art was wicked. 

Turning slightly, Zayn saw Niall's bedside table, and recognized something sitting on top of it. His guitar statue. Feeling warmness fill his limbs, Zayn tried not to smile. Niall definitely wouldn't thank him for it. But it was adorable that Niall kept the gift right next to where he slept. Zayn saw a photo frame next to the guitar, he peered closer. It was a picture of Niall and a lady. He looked really young in the photo, maybe fifteen or sixteen. His arm was around the woman's shoulders, and he was pulling a funny face: eyes wide and tongue out. His hair was a different style, all floppy around his face like Justin Bieber's. 

Niall looked so happy. No inhibitions, no weariness, no sadness in his face. And that fact alone would've told Zayn that the woman in the picture with Niall was his mother. He would've known even if Niall didn't look exactly like her. Zayn had thought Niall was a replica of his father, but he'd been wrong. Niall was all his mother. They had the same merry, mischevious expression, the same profile, the same impish smile. 

"This your mum?" Zayn asked, leaning back up and glancing at Niall. His eyes flitted towards Zayn and then dashed away. Biting down on his lower lip, he nodded quickly.  
"Yeah, that's her." he mumbled.  
"She's beautiful."  
"I know that." Niall said, as if it had never occurred to him to doubt it. He reached over from his bed and picked up the frame, looking at the photograph, an unreadable expression in his eyes.  
"She looks just like you." Zayn said. 

Niall's hand suddenly shook and he quickly put the photo back down, in case he'd drop it. Sitting up, he looked up at Zayn, tears in his eyes and a hand pressed tight to his stomach, like he was trying to hold himself together.  
"Please stop." he gasped. "Please don't do that, please, _please_ don't."  
"Do what?" Zayn asked, bewildered. "What did I do?"  
"You just inadvertently called me beautiful, and you didn't even notice you did it. You always- always flirt with me, and I used to think it was something you did only with me. It made me feel special. I- I thought _I_ was special to you." 

Niall paused, swallowing hard. He looked up at Zayn, his hands in tight fists on his knees. He's shaky and tear- streaked and Zayn couldn't move. 

"And I can accept the fact that I'm not special, that you probably flirt with everybody because everybody likes you. And of course they do, you're charming and kind and the most beautiful person I've ever met. But please- please don't flirt with me anymore, because it'll hurt too much when I see you do it with somebody else."  
"Niall, you're- you're so special. So, so special, please don't think you're not-" Zayn said, panic in his voice. Niall had to understand, had to grasp just how wonderful he was.  
"Not enough." Niall whispered. "I'm not, not in the way I want to be to you. I wasn't special enough for you to want to kiss me back." 

Zayn stiffened, casting his eyes downward. Niall was still staring up at him, his face stricken.  
"Why didn't you say something?" he asked wretchedly. "Why didn't you stop me before I was just about to do it?"  
"Because- because-" Zayn babbled, feeling like he was suffocating. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to defend himself when faced with Niall's pain.  
"I worked up a lot of courage to try and do that, Zayn." Niall said tiredly. "I really wanted it to be you."  
Zayn suddenly found himself crouching, putting his hands on Niall's knees. Thankfully, Niall didn't push him away. They were in the same position that they had been at the party, when Zayn asked Niall to dance, but the situation was so different. Zayn's now the one looking up at Niall pleadingly, begging him to at least listen.  
"I wanted to kiss you." he said, making every single word clear. "I've wanted to kiss you since your football hit me. I wanted to kiss you on your first day of school, and at the first party you ever went to, and both times we were in the art room together, but a lot more the second time. And I wanted to kiss you at the Secret Santa, and I wanted to kiss you on New Years." 

_I want to kiss you while I'm listing all the times I wanted to kiss you_.

Niall stared at him, transfixed. He didn't blink, his mouth hanging open slightly. He pressed his lips together tightly, a few tears gliding down his cheeks. Zayn held onto his knees tighter, hoping he wouldn't bolt away. Zayn wasn't sure if he imagined it, but he thought he saw a glimmer of joy cross Niall's face. But it was swiftly replaced with sadness again, because even though Niall now knew that Zayn had wanted to kiss him, he still couldn't forget the fact that he hadn't. 

"Then why didn't you?" Niall asked brokenly. "If you wanted to- why- why-"  
Niall's voice died and he bowed his head, breaking his eye contact with Zayn. Zayn leaned down, trying to look into Niall's eyes. Slowly, Niall's hand came forward to touch Zayn's left one on his knee. He didn't grab on, just loosely touched it with cold fingers.  
"I didn't kiss you because it shouldn't have happened there. I didn't want to kiss you with alcohol on my lips and panic on yours. You deserve so much more than that. I guess- I guess the first time I kissed you, I wanted to get it right. It had to be perfect, because you are." 

Niall finally looked back at Zayn as his own words washed over him. He tightened his grip on Zayn's hand, rubbing his thumb over the delicate bones of Zayn's wrist. He blinked slowly a few times, trying to take what Zayn just said in.  
"Zayn, what're you trying to say?" Niall asked desperately, his eyes boring into Zayn's . "I don't understand-" 

Zayn took a deep breath, knowing he had to say it, knowing it would hurt him, knowing it would hurt Niall more.  
"I can't make it perfect, Niall." he said miserably. "I'm not dependable enough to be in a real relationship, clearly. You deserve a boy who'll hold your hand and take you on dates and kiss you wherever you want to be kissed. And I can't be that boy, Niall, I know I can't be."  
"What if I want you to be?" Niall breathed. "Do you think if I wanted it enough, it could happen?" 

Oh God, he was so innocent. He believed that if you wished for something hard enough, it would come true. He was a real-life Cinderella, and Zayn wanted to be his prince: wanted to sweep him off his feet and dance with him beneath the moonlight and never let him go. But Zayn knew that no matter how much you wanted something, sometimes it didn't happen. 

"Maybe if things were different, maybe if _I_ was different, it could. If I was able to be a good boyfriend, if you were older and more experienced, if we'd met sometime fucking else in our lives except right now, it could." Zayn said wretchedly.  
"But we didn't." Niall whispered. "So it can't." 

Zayn nodded. 

Niall bowed his head again, fresh tears dropping down onto his lap. He took a few deep breaths, his entire frame rising with each inhale. He held onto Zayn's hands tightly, his own shaking. He gave one final, little gasp, before regaining some control of himself. Dropping Zayn's hand, he reached over and brushed his knuckles against Zayn's cheek. Zayn shut his eyes and held his hand there, pressing against the skin of Niall's palm. Niall cleared his throat, and Zayn tensed, waiting for him to deliver the proverbial death blow, to shut him out instantly. 

"I understand, Zayn." he whispered, brushing the pad of his thumb over Zayn's eyelid, gently making him to open them. "I understand."  
Zayn looked at him in confusion, his brow furrowing. Niall gave him a weak, watery smile, his other hand moving up to cord through Zayn's hair.  
"You do?"  
"Yeah, I do." Niall said, bobbing his head up and down quickly. "We just have bad timing. Like- maybe in an alternate reality, we'd be together. We could be in an arranged marriage to each other or something, or maybe we'd be in uni together and we'd meet by you holding me over a keg stand, or maybe we'd be put together in a boyband that becomes world famous. Maybe there's a million different realities, and we're just not meant to be in this one." 

Zayn laughed bitterly, tears blurring his vision, because that was just so, so sad. Niall brushed some of the wetness away with his fingertip, his touch incredibly gentle.  
"Don't say that." Zayn mumbled. "That means we'll never be together, in this universe."  
"Maybe if I get a bit taller." Niall said, aiming to be cheery. "I'll grow until I'm almost as tall as you, and those few inches will shift the universe to where it's supposed to be."  
"Maybe." Zayn said with a tiny smile. Niall chucked him gently under the chin before dropping his hands, resting them on his lap. Zayn slowly stood and Niall joined him, the both of them just looking at each other. 

"Thank you for coming to see me." Niall said, suddenly shy as he looked at his Converse. "I- I feel much better."  
 _I don't_.  
"Good." Zayn replied, managing a smile. Niall smiled too, his teeth peeking out from behind his lips, and Zayn felt his heart ache at the sight.  
"D'ya think-" Niall started. Zayn's eyes flicked up to look at him and he reddened slightly before continuing.  
"D'ya think we can still be friends?" he said hopefully. "I mean, we were friends before anything happened, and I don't wanna fuck that up because of this, and I'm seriously hoping this didn't ruin what we had-"  
"Of course we can still be friends, Niall." Zayn said, reaching over and brushing his fingers over Niall's elbow. "I don't wanna lose my best mate." 

Niall threw his arms around Zayn's middle, burying his still wet head into his neck.  
"Oh thank God." he said gruffly, sighing with relief. "That's what I was most worried about."  
Zayn gently curled his arms around Niall's slight body, holding him carefully. He smelled like apple shampoo and aftershave, and Zayn felt the smell cloying around his nostrils. He didn't want to let him go, because Zayn had a feeling this would be the last time he'd ever hug Niall like this. Niall always hugged like he was trying to hold him together with his body, and Zayn wasn't ready to fall apart. 

Reluctantly, Zayn slipped out of Niall's arms, shoving his hands into his jean pockets and clenching them into fists. He cleared this throat and then spoke.  
"I better get going." he said, nudging the toe of his sneaker against the hardwood beneath his feet.  
"Oh, yeah, yeah." Niall said, nodding compliantly. "I'll walk you out." 

Together, they walked out of Niall's bedroom, turning on the corridor and heading down the stairs. Zayn cast his eyes along the walls, looking for photos or paintings. To his surprise, there were none, not even of family members. Actually, the only photograph Zayn had seen the entire time he was here was the one on Niall's bedside table. Kinda odd, but not unheard of, in split families. 

They reached the first floor and Zayn pausing, wondering if he should say goodbye to Niall's dad. Niall saw his questioning look and shook his head, an affectionate smile on his face.  
"He's napping. Always does this time of day. He's funny like that."  
Zayn nodded, going over to the coat rack and taking down his jacket, shrugging it onto his shoulders. He went to the door and Niall did too, opening it for him. Zayn stepped out of the house, shivering. It had started snowing again, the flakes falling in his hair and melting.  
"I'll see you tomorrow?" Zayn said nonchalantly. "In the student commons with the boys?"  
"Yeah, yeah definitely." Niall replied, nodding quickly. "I'll see you then." 

Zayn gave a tight lipped smile, moving back further into the cold. Niall waved goodbye limply, shutting the door slowly. He kept staring at Zayn, and he couldn't look away either. Finally, the door shut with a dull thud. Zayn took a deep breath and zipped his jacket up to the neck, turning on his heel and stepping out further into the snow. It was deathly quiet, the only sound being the thud of Zayn's feet. He paused at the steps of the porch, gripping the banister. As he stood there, he just breathed, listening to the silence. But then a noise cut through the quiet. 

Through the door, Zayn heard Niall give one weak sob. He gasped loudly, but then muffled it somehow, maybe pressing his hand against his mouth. Niall was breaking all alone, because he hadn't wanted Zayn to see him do it. 

Zayn shuddered, trying to get that sound out of his head, but knowing he wouldn't manage it. He shoved his hand into his jacket pockets, sniffing. And he could still hear Niall crying: breathy little gasps that he couldn't stop.  
"Fuck, I can't." Zayn spat, rushing away. He sprinted down to his bike and flung himself on it, hurriedly strapping the helmet on. With fumbling fingers, he shoved his pads on and then started the engine, kicking up the stand and rolling out of the neighborhood as fast as possible. 

He'd tried to fix it, he'd tried to fix _them_ , but it hadn't worked. Trying to fix this would be like trying to piece Niall's handprint back together: it couldn't be done. They were shattered, Zayn had shattered Niall, and he doubted any art supply or romantic gesture or even a kiss would mend him. 

Zayn drove home as fast as he could, trying to race away from that. But he couldn't. It was ringing around in his head, and the absolute worst part was that Niall had acted like he was fine, like everything could go back to the way it had been. Why had Niall pretended? Why had he blocked his emotions? Why had he hidden- hidden _everything_? 

 

At school that Monday morning, Niall seemed fine. All the boys were apprehensive around him: Zayn assumed Liam had filled Louis and Harry in on everything that happened. But he just seemed like the normal Nialler. He joked with Louis about the Year Three girls' new obsession with leg warmers, and he teased Liam about the love bites covering his neck, put there by Sophia. He even patted the couch cushion next to him for Zayn to sit down. He smiled and giggled and carried on with the rest of them. 

But it wasn't real. It was all a facade, because Zayn could still hear Niall's sob. But it made Zayn think, and what he thought scared him more than anything. 

_What else could you be hiding behind that crooked smile?_


	10. Chapter 10

Zayn once learned that art could be used as a form of therapy. And these days, he could really use some fucking therapy. It's been a rough two weeks for Zayn. He still has nothing in his art portfolio, he can't sleep properly without the use of over the counter drugs, and basically everything is shit. Well, except his friend life, which is normal, fine, great even. 

 

Except that's also utter shit, because he was not fine, and he knew Niall wasn't. 

 

Everything was so fake. They were like gilded gold: perfect on the surface but twisted underneath. Zayn would crack a joke, Niall would laugh with the others. Niall would leap up for a piggyback ride, Zayn would carry him obligingly. Except Niall's laugh was automatic, never his sudden burst of utter joy. And his arms didn't cling onto Zayn like he'd never let him go anymore. And what hurt Zayn the most was that he'd barely even noticed these things when he had them. It was these subtle differences that made Zayn's chest ache. 

 

So Zayn decided to paint. He was gonna use whatever technical skill he had, and be as precise as possible. Today was not a day for messy spray paint: sloppily done dashes and careless lines made to form a chaotic, but beautiful, whole. Today was a day for thought, for order, for sorting out Zayn's own head. That's what he wanted to do, that's what he needed to do. 

 

But recently, Zayn hadn't been getting what he wanted or needed, so obviously, as soon as Zayn walked into the art room, he was confronted by his half-finished portrait of Niall. 

 

"FUCK." Zayn screamed, dropping his bag down to the floor with a bang. He strode over to the canvas, pushing it away from where it stood in the centre of the room. 

"I need to get this away from me." he muttered on his breath, "Because I can't get away from him anywhere else." 

He grabbed the base of the canvas and then looked down as his hand brushed some paper. Grabbing it, he narrowed his eyes, recognizing the spidery handwriting of Ms. Waverly. 

_"This has been sitting in the closet for weeks. I knew you were coming round today and thought he needed some air. Paint's in the back, might be running low on yellow. "_

 

Zayn sighed deeply, crumpling the note in his fist. He threw it towards the nearest rubbish bin, wished he could forget what he just read. He didn't want to work on this today. He had only wanted to get a bowl of fruit and paint that, for God's sake. Still life and all that shit. Zayn was very interested in the texture of apples. 

 

Except...moving the painting would require putting Niall back into the closet. And Zayn definitely wasn't a writer, but that seemed way too metaphorical for him. So he kept the painting out, cursing vehemently under his breath as he hauled trays and trays of paint out from the back of the art room. Blues, pinks, yellows: all the colors that made up Niall Horan. 

"I'm only finishing this because I can't leave a project unfinished." Zayn said aloud as he furiously ripped off the lid of a paint can. "No other fucking reason, nope, none at all. I am completely unattached right now. I'm not painting Niall today: I'm painting a random person, a sitter. He might as well be a fucking apple, because I am not fucking emotionally attached. Actually, I'm so emotionally unattached, I'm not even going to mention the subject's name again." 

 

Zayn kept lying to himself as he grabbed various paintbrushes and a bowl of rinsing water. Picking up a delicate brush, he decided to work on the painting's mouth, because he hadn't quite gotten the correct tilt of the subject's lips. Zayn shut his eyes and envisioned what was painting. Taking a deep breath, he dipped his brush into the rose paint, gently applying it to the canvas with a steady hand. 

"Okay, so, the smile has to be sorta askew." Zayn mumbled to himself as he worked, eyes focused on the painting. "But it somehow works with the rest of the face. There's probably some technical art term for that, but I don't know it, and I'm not gonna bother learning it, because I won't be painting this again." 

 

Zayn worked steadily for the next forty five minutes, barely ever taking his eyes off the canvas. He painted feverishly, getting various colors spattered up and down his face and bare arms, clashing with the ink of his tattoos. He wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, accidentally smearing blonde colored paint across his skin and the front of his quiff. Zayn worked and worked and worked, because he wanted to get it finished, he wanted it to be fully and properly over. 

 

But after standing back and looking at the completed painting, Zayn knew, from somewhere deep inside himself, that it wasn't. 

"There, Nialler." he whispered tiredly, dropping his final paintbrush in the now murky rinse water. His lips quirked up into a smile as he looked at the painting. It was much better than before: He'd captured the light in Niall's eyes perfectly, and his smile was glorious, making Zayn's insides warm. Obviously, Zayn could never do the real thing justice, it'd probably be a lot better if he'd actually had Niall sit for him, but even so- Zayn was proud of what he'd created. 

 

Sauntering over to Ms. Waverly' messy desk, Zayn grabbed a piece of paper with his smudged hands. Uncapping a pen, he scribbled a note down and then put it ontop of the canvas for Ms. W to find. 

_Portfolio Piece #1 ;)_

 

Maybe art was a legitimate form of therapy, after all. 

 

 

As Zayn was locking up the art room for the night, his phone buzzed in his jean's pocket. Switching the light off and putting his jacket on, he then reached into his pocket and took it out, reading the text message. And what he read made his insides go freezing cold all over again. Because the text was from Niall. 

 

_Hey Zayn, I heard from Liam that you were staying after school today. I was wondering if you could meet me in the Music Wing in ten minutes? Practice Room Three?_

 

"Shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit shit _shit _." Zayn cursed furiously, already feeling his legs move beneath him. He didn't know where this "practice room" was, he wasn't entirely sure which side of the school the music wing was on, because he'd been there a grand total of three times. But the text had been sent twenty minutes go, so Niall had been already waiting for ten, and Lord above, Zayn needed fucking help.__

__"I'm whipped." Zayn mumbled to himself as he strode through the silent corridors of the school. "I turned him down, and yet, I'm as whipped as a pony."_ _

__

__It didn't help Zayn's mood that school was just so creepy in the evenings. Because of the winter, the sun had already set, so no sunlight came through the windows. Fluorescent light bulbs shone down on Zayn's trek to the art room, guiding his way as he skidded around slippy corners and dashed past open lockers. He half expected some janitor to jump out at him and blind him with Windex. Yet somehow, Zayn found his way to the music wing, listening to the gentle sound of piano notes tinkling through the air._ _

__

__Walking down the hall past the toilets, Zayn turned right, still following his ears. He saw two darkened rooms off to his right side, and then past them, a room with a dim light shining out from the propped door. Practice Room Three._ _

__

__His heart in his trachea, Zayn walked slowly forward. Reaching the door, he leaned against it, noncommittal. He paused for a few moments before he knocked, just watching. Niall was sitting on the piano bench, his blonde head bowed over the instrument. He played a few scales, dancing his delicate fingers over the black and ivory keys. Zayn followed the movement with his eyes, watching as his hands expertly plucked sound out from the piano._ _

__

__Zayn hadn't known he played anything besides guitar._ _

__

__Eyes slightly wet, Zayn gave himself a shake, choosing to focus on any details that would hurt him less. Niall was wearing a faded gray sweater, and Zayn briefly wondered if it would make his eyes look gray. (He hoped not.) His familar Converse were on his feet, pushing the pedals of the piano gently. He looked like a mirage: a figment of Zayn's imagination, an oasis in the desert, something that would fade away if he got too close._ _

__

__Zayn missed him. He missed them, the way they used to be. So he stood there for a minute, listening to the beautiful sound brought forth by Niall. Zayn let himself have that, because he knew he didn't deserve much, but if he deserved anything, it was that minute of utter tranquility._ _

__

__And then, Zayn let the minute pass, and he cleared his throat. Niall's hands stalled on the piano, hitting a wrong note. His head snapped up so he saw Zayn, his eyes wide. But then he smiled warmly, grooves appearing in his cheeks. Was it his real smile? Zayn wasn't so sure anymore, he wasn't sure if he'd actually ever seen that, but it still made him feel kinda better._ _

__"Zayn!" he said cheerily. "You made it. I thought that maybe you didn't get my text, because the mobile phone service in school is shit, but you're here, so yay!"_ _

__"Yeah, yeah, I was clearing up in the art room." Zayn replied lamely, gesturing at his paint spattered form. "Got a bit- a bit messy tonight."_ _

__"Your hair looks cool like that, though." Niall said with a sweet smile, fiddling with the base of his own fringe. "Looks kinda blonde-ish."_ _

__"Don't lie, Ni. I shouldn't ever be anything but a brunette." Zayn joked, panic flaring up in his chest. He needed to get the conversation far away from hair color._ _

__"I'm serious! If you ever wanna make it a permanent thing, tell me. I've always got loads of dye left over: I could give ya' a stripe or something."_ _

__"Maybe I'll take you up on that someday, Niall." Zayn said, smiling despite himself._ _

__

__They lasped into silence for a few moments, Niall gingerly pressing a few keys of the piano. He looked up at Zayn, chewing on the inside of his cheek. And then they both spoke over each other._ _

__"So, did you need me for something-"_ _

__"You're probably wondering why I texted you-"_ _

__

__His cheeks coloring, Zayn gestured for Niall to continue. Niall blushed too, glancing at the sheet music on the piano stand in front of him. He took a shallow breath and then said,_ _

__"I know it's kinda weird that I asked you to be here. But- but I thought it was time that I do something."_ _

__"Do what?" Zayn asked hoarsely, heart thudding in his chest. Did Niall not even want to be friends with Zayn anymore, and this was just the easiest, non-public, way to tell him? "Niall, what're you doing?"_ _

__

__Niall sighed, sliding to the left on the piano bench and patting the open space beside him for Zayn to sit down. Zayn swallowed and stepped forward, steeling himself. He sat down next to Niall, but facing the opposite direction, his back to the piano. He stared at the wall in front of him, clenching his jaw tightly. He wouldn't get upset about this, at least not right in front of Niall. He just- had to brace himself, was all._ _

__"Zayn," Niall began, removing his hands from the piano keys and resting them limply on his lap. "Zayn, I'm getting it right."_ _

__

__Zayn's head swiveled to his right, and then he was staring at Niall, feeling his eyes almost fall out of his head. Niall was blinking up at him, his face drawn with nerves._ _

__"What?" Zayn asked hurriedly. "What do you mean?"_ _

__"I'm gonna- I'm gonna sing for you." Niall said firmly, determination in his voice. "Right now, if I can get my hands to stop shaking."_ _

__

__Relief hit Zayn so quickly and so strongly that he almost fell off the bench. Letting out a shaky breath, he gave a quick nod, trying to reassure Niall._ _

__"Yeah, yeah, perfect." he heard himself babble. "Whenever you're ready, Ni."_ _

__Niall offered him a feeble smile, raising his hands and cracking his knuckles. Holding them over the keys, he mimicked the motions with his fingers, his tongue poking out between his teeth._ _

__"It might be really bad." he said worriedly. "Because piano isn't my favourite or my best instrument, but the song that I'm gonna sing works best with the piano. And you'll probably hate the song too, because it might be- uh- might be a bit personal but-"_ _

__"I'm sure it'll be fantastic." Zayn said warmly, reaching down and patting Niall's knee. Niall clasped Zayn's fingers with his own hand for a few moments, and yes, Zayn could feel him shaking._ _

__

__But then, Niall let him go, bringing his hands back to the piano. He rested them on top of the keys, counting himself in under his breath. He played the opening chords of a song, a steady rhythm, and as usual, Zayn didn't recognize it. Zayn shut his eyes, thinking Niall would fare better if he was certain that nobody was actually watching, just listening. And honestly, Zayn just wanted to listen. He had waited so long to hear Niall's voice, and he wouldn't let a single moment of it be snatched away by some distraction. Zayn was pretty sure a comet could be hurtling towards their school, and he would stay in that practice room listening._ _

__

__There was a few more moments of chords, a few more deep breaths, and then Niall started to sing._ _

__

__" **What time you coming down? We started losing light.** " he sang, his voice starting out shaky but then gaining strength as the lyric continued. " **I'll never make it right, if you don't want me around.** "_ _

__

__Zayn felt chills erupts over his entire body as the music hit him, washing over him. Niall's voice was- it was exactly like Zayn had imagined it. Filled with emotion and tender and somewhat raspy, but in the best way possible. It was like a lullaby and a rock ballad all at once. Zayn wanted to drown in it._ _

__

__Even with his eyes closed, Zayn could see Niall. He could see how he was hunched over the piano, rocking his entire body with every motion of his hands. He could see how his feet were crossed at the ankles and how his jeans bunched up at his shins, because they were too long. He could see his hair and his freckles and his mouth. Zayn could see Niall as if his eyes were open._ _

__

__" **I'm so excited for the night, all we need's your bike and my enormous house. We said someday we might, when I'm closer to your height. Til' then, we'll knock around, endlessly...** "_ _

__

__The image in Zayn's head changed. Now he could see Niall, clinging onto him as Zayn drove them around on his motorcycle. He could see him carefully strapping on the spare helmet, could see him giddily jumping off the bike, hyped up on what he'd just done. He'd been so beautiful then, petrified but ecstatic. He'd had the beauty of a child on a rollercoaster for the first time: pure joy mixed with terror._ _

__

__Zayn saw Niall the first time he'd seen him. He saw the young boy with knobby knees and too thin legs. The boy that couldn't possibly be in Seventh class, because he was just too young. The boy who thought that if he grew a few inches, he could shift the universe to where it needed to be. But if anyone had the power to move planets, it was Niall Horan._ _

__

__" **You're all I need.** " Niall sang, his fingers stalling slightly on the keys. Zayn heard him swallow and then pick up again. Zayn felt like he was going to fly away, so he gripped the edge of the piano bench to ground himself. He felt his knuckles tighten, almost to the point of pain, but he didn't let to. He wasn't going to let go this time. _ _

__

__" **Don't you see me? I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you.** "_ _

__

__Zayn saw him more than he'd ever seen anyone. This was Niall, the only person he'd ever been able to draw free hand. And he'd fallen for him too, harder and faster and more painfully that Zayn would've ever thought possible._ _

__

__" **Don't you need me? I- I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you.** "_ _

__

__Zayn needed him. So much. More than he needed anyone else. These past two weeks had taught him that._ _

__

__" **And on this night, and in this light, I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you.** "_ _

__

__Zayn saw Niall at the New Year's party, spinning with him in the middle of the dance floor. He saw the disco lights and the glitter shining through his hair, gleaming against his skin. Zayn had often compared Niall to light: sunlight, moonlight, starlight, candlelight. That wasn't a comparison he was ever gonna forget._ _

__

__" **Maybe you'll change you mind.** " Niall half whispered, his voice getting weak again. Zayn felt his chest ache, because really, his mind had never changed. He'd known that he wanted Niall from the moment he met him, at that park. But Zayn thought that he could've met Niall anywhere and he would've wanted him just as desperately, maybe in one of those alternate universes they'd talked about. That football to Zayn's head in this universe had just been an eye opener: it had been a reason for Zayn to sit up and take notice of what was about to come running right into his life. _ _

__

__" **I'm caught on your coat again. You said 'Oh no, it's fine.' I read between the lines, and touched your leg again, again.** "_ _

__

__Zayn saw Niall wrapping his coat around him, back in October. He saw him diligently fastening the buttons, a lopsided smile on his face. He saw all the times that Niall and he had "accidentally" touched one another: all the knee bumps, finger brushes, hand holds that nobody remembered instigating, but nobody wanted to take back._ _

__

__" **I'll take you one day at a time, soon you will be mine. Oh, but I want you now.** " Niall continued, his hands growing more confident on the keys again. " **I want you now.** "_ _

__

__Zayn saw himself writing out Operation Leprecuan, saw it being folded and carefully put in his pocket by Louis, so "the plan of attack will never go missing, because those skinny jeans never leave your arse, you vain, beautiful, fuck." Zayn saw himself taking it out and looking at it every so often, laughing at the foolishness of the plan, but also never being able to throw it away._ _

__

__He wanted Niall now too._ _

__

__" **When the smoke is in your eyes, you look so alive.** " Niall continued, a hint of a laugh in his voice. " **Do you fancy sitting down with me? Maybe?** "_ _

__

__Zayn saw Niall studying him as he shotgunned with Harry on that porch. He remembered how Niall hadn't been able to tear his eyes away, had wanted to see every place where Harry and Zayn touched. Had he been curious to see how it worked? To see how two boys lined up and how natural it looked, how natural it was? Or had he been- had he been jealous?_ _

__

__Zayn saw all the times Niall had beckoned for Zayn to sit beside him. How he shifted up on seats to give him room. How they'd shared a couch at Louis' Christmas party and Zayn had almost died over Niall's thighs on his legs. Zayn wondered if Niall had been as sensitive to their contact as Zayn had been._ _

__

__" **According to your heart, my place is not deliberate. The feeling of your arms....** "_ _

__

__That was sorta true. Zayn had never planned for this, had never expected it, had never wanted it. But he still wouldn't change it. Because that next part was definitely true. The feeling of holding Niall in his arms couldn't be described. There were no words for it, lyrical or not. It was better than words, really. Zayn didn't feel so at peace anywhere else except with Niall pressed against his chest, their heartbeats synching up._ _

__

__" **I don't wanna be your friend...I wanna kiss your neck.** " Niall belted, his voice building, slamming down on the keys harder. _ _

__

__Zayn remembered his and Niall's last meaningful conversation, where he'd said "D'ya think- D'ya think we can still be friends?" He knew that that was lie, that Niall had hidden what he really wanted. Zayn knew that this, this song, was a confession._ _

__

__Zayn saw Niall walking toward him on New Year's. He saw how badly he wanted to be kissed, felt once again how badly Zayn himself had wanted to kiss him. Zayn imagined being that close to Niall, brushing his lips over his pulse point and feeling him shiver. He imagined bruising up the pale skin of Niall's neck with his mouth, making it purples and blues._ _

__

__" **And on this night, and in this light, I think I'm falling for you. Maybe you'll change your mind.** " Niall finished, his voice fading out as he continued to play. But then, the piano music stopped too, leaving a silence so loud, it rang in Zayn's ears. _ _

__

__Zayn opened his eyes, feeling the dampness on them. He took a few steadying breaths, trying not to break. He and Niall just sat beside each other for a few moments before Zayn turned, shifting to the right so he could look at Niall. He was huddled in on himself, his arms crossed around his stomach. His bottom lip was worried between his teeth, the whiteness of his teeth starkly contrasted against the pinkness of his mouth. He inhaled, resting his still shaking hands on his bent knees._ _

__

__"Niall." Zayn breathed. "Niall, please look at me."_ _

__Slowly, Niall brought his head up, looking up at Zayn with huge, soulful eyes. A few tears lingered around the edges, and with a start, Zayn realized that Niall had been silently crying as he played. Zayn reached over to Niall, brushing a stray tear away with his thumb. He cupped his cheek with his hand, using the other to smooth Niall's fringe back from his forehead. Sweat coated Niall's skin thinly, shining against the paleness. He flicked his tongue over his dry lips and Zayn couldn't help but track the movement._ _

__"I'm sorry." Niall croaked, pressing his cheek against Zayn's palm._ _

__"What for?" Zayn replied, wiping away another tear._ _

__"I know we basically agreed not to mention whatever's been between us again, but- but this is how I feel, and I'm tired of hiding how I feel and-"_ _

__

__Zayn put a finger to Niall's lips, tenderly silencing him. Niall shivered, unknowingly leaning closer to Zayn. Zayn moved his hand down to touch Niall's neck, finding his pulse beating against his palm. It was racing, to match Zayn's own. Zayn moved closer on the piano bench, feeling Niall's eyes boring into him. Their faces were mere inches away from each other now, Zayn's nose bumping against Niall's. Niall toyed with the blonde patch of Zayn's painted hair, a tiny smile grazing his lips. His fingers moved down to graze Zayn's cheek, touching a stripe of blue. Zayn wondered how long it would take him to figure out that these colors were reflected in his own mirror._ _

__

__"Zayn, you have to be sure." Niall said hurriedly. "Like, absolutely, positively sure. Because I won't be able to take it again if- if you aren't."_ _

__"I've never been more sure of anything in my life." Zayn whispered, his breath tickling Niall's skin. Niall inhaled sharply as Zayn gently rubbed his thumb over his cheekbone. He leaned in until his nose slipped past Niall's, their mouths centimeters away from touching. Niall was shaking, so Zayn reached down and held on his left hand, interlocking their fingers._ _

__"What're you doing?" Niall whispered, shutting his eyes so his light eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks._ _

__"Getting it right." Zayn replied, before he finally closed the distance between them._ _

__

__Niall stiffened as Zayn pressed their mouths together, jolting at the feeling. He gasped into Zayn's mouth, reaching up and holding onto Zayn's hair, a gentle pressure to steady himself. Zayn held onto Niall's thin hips, supporting him. They weren't even kissing properly yet: it was just contact, really, letting Niall get used to the feeling. Zayn wasn't gonna rush this, not after they'd both waited so long for it._ _

__

__Niall's lips were soft, softer than Zayn's, and warmer too. His chin was trembling, so Zayn cupped his face again, reassuringly rubbing his thumb in soothing circles against Niall's cheek. Hesitantly, Zayn nipped at Niall's bottom lip with his teeth, gently coaxing him to open his mouth. Niall allowed him access, opening his mouth willingly. Their teeth bumped together clumsily, both of them too eager. Zayn heard Niall's breath hitch as he ran his tongue inside the boy's mouth, and then his hands were gripping onto Zayn's shirt desperately, clinging onto him. Zayn angled his head, deepening the kiss even more as Niall surged back up to meet him, original retience disappearing._ _

__

__Zayn felt like fireworks were going off in his chest, spiraling up into the air and sparking inside his head. Niall's hands were warm against his chest and his lips fit perfectly against Zayn's, matching him for every drag and slide. Niall moved closer until they were nearly chest to chest, and Zayn felt dizzy, felt like he was getting high off Niall Horan._ _

__

__The kiss was wet, messy, and utterly perfect. Their breath was hot and their hands were shaking and their heads were spinning. Niall changed his grip, so he was hanging onto Zayn's neck. They slowly broke apart, gazing at each other, Niall blinking up at Zayn. His eyes were wide and his cheeks were pink and his lips were a puffy bright red. Zayn felt a thrill run through him as he realized that he'd done that._ _

__

__Niall leaned forward and rested his head against Zayn's chest, breathing heavily. Zayn wrapped his arms around Niall's thin body, holding him close. He was still trembling, so Zayn tenderly ran a hand up and down the bones of Niall's spine, nuzzling his face into Niall's hair._ _

__"Alright, Niall?" Zayn asked softly, pressing his lips to Niall's ear. Niall leant back from Zayn's body, looking shell-shocked. He nodded numbly, his eyes flicking up to look back at Zayn._ _

__

__Slowly, a smile crept across Niall's face, blossoming to become the smile that made Zayn feel like he could do anything. He raised his hand to his mouth, grazing his fingertips across his lip and then reaching over to touch Zayn's, as if he couldn't believe they'd just been against one another._ _

__

__"Zayn," he started, but another smile cut him off. And then a laugh bubbled up in his chest, so he threw his head back and laughed joyously. "Zayn!"_ _

__

__He dissolved into giggles again, burrowing his head back into Zayn's chest. Zayn held him tightly, pressing light kisses to his hair and temples, making him blush. Slowly, Zayn grabbed Niall's free hands, holding them straight up in the air, making sure all ten fingers were splayed out. And he tucked Niall's thumb into a fist, waiting to see if he understood. Niall glanced at Zayn for a few moments, and then his mouth dropped open as it clicked._ _

__

__And then they were both laughing and Niall was holding onto Zayn like he couldn't bear to let him go, and it was the best kiss Zayn had ever had. It was the only kiss he'd ever had that he wanted to repeat again and again._ _

__

__And maybe, Niall wanted that too._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was worth the long wait. Much love to anyone who stuck through the past couple chapters of angst. I song used in this chapter is "Falling for You" by the 1975, please listen to it, because it's amazing :D
> 
> So, should I end the fic right here?
> 
> Nah, I've got much more planned XD


	11. Chapter 11

It'd been twelve hours, and Zayn still hadn't stopped smiling. 

He didn't stop as he and Niall walked out of the school, hand in hand. He didn't stop as Niall hopped into his dad's waiting car, pressing his face against the glass of the window and waving goodbye crazily. He didn't stop as he walked home, his feet barely touching the pavement. He didn't stop as he crawled into bed and fell asleep, worn out from everything but still remembering Niall's warm lips locked with his. Zayn didn't know if he was ever gonna stop smiling about it. 

Zayn felt his constant smile widen as he looked down at his phone the following morning, seeing a deluge of texts from Niall, from various times in the night. 

_Hi Zayn :3_

_My dad wants to know why I was so happy leaving school, should I tell him? XD_

_I think he suspects tho._

_Can't sleep, still too smiley :))))))_

_I know I'm being a sap but....you're just really lovely._

_Really, really lovely...._

 

And finally, Zayn felt his smile slip, and then disappear altogether. Because this was where he would fail. He didn't know how to respond, didn't know how to be sweet or affectionate or a- a _boyfriend_. They hadn't even talked about that, hadn't even gone on a proper date, yet Zayn was getting these texts from Niall and he already didn't know what to say back. 

Jesus, Zayn was fucked. Utterly, royally fucked. 

Thumbs hovering over his phone keys, Zayn pursed his lips, exiting out of the conversation with Niall. Trying not to panic, he swiped to his contacts and went to Louis. He paused for a few moments, wondering if Louis would even be awake at this hour, but then decided to go through with it and call him, because he figured Louis cared enough about him and Niall to pick up. Hitting "Call", Zayn held the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. 

On the sixth and final ring, Louis picked up the phone, his voice groggy from sleep.   
" 'Ello?" he mumbled. "Z?"   
"Louis." Zayn said with relief, holding the phone tighter against his ear. "Hi."   
"It's seven fucking o'clock on a Saturday mornin' and you woke me up to say hi, you absolute wanker-"   
"No! Don't hang up, Lou. Something's happened."   
"What?" Louis asked, suddenly sharp. Zayn heard the squeak of bedsprings, so Louis was sitting up in bed. "Zayn, what's wrong?"   
"Nothing's really _wrong_ -"  
"Is Harry okay?"   
"What? Yeah, yeah, Harry's fine." 

Zayn could almost feel Louis relax through the phone. He gave a tiny sigh of relief, and Zayn heard him sink back down on the bedsprings. Well, at least he knew his priorities. Zayn wasn't sure who would be the first person he'd think of in the wake of an accident. (He had his guesses though.)  
"Okay, so what's up?" Louis asked easily, all ready to have a conversation now. Zayn wasn't sure how to phrase it, so he paused for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. And because he's Louis, he jumped in on the silence.   
"Oh wait, lemme guess. You finally kissed the leprecuan?" he joked, laughter evident in his voice. 

Zayn's mouth fell open and he gulped, fighting the panic bubbling up in his chest. Louis chuckled on the other end of the line, and Zayn was just _so pleased_ that he was amused by the thought.   
"Really, Z what's going on?" he asked, still giggling a bit. Zayn clutched the bottom of the phone, shutting his eyes and waiting for the shit storm that was swiftly approaching him.   
"You uh- you actually just said it yourself." he said breathlessly. 

Louis' end of the line suddenly went absolutely silent, and Zayn cracked an eye open, looking at the screen and checking to see if he'd hung up. But the call was still on-going, so Zayn brought the speaker back to his mouth.   
"Lou?" he asked hesitantly. "You there?"   
"Zayn Malik," Louis started, his voice controlled. "This kiss better have happened five _fucking_ minutes ago and you better have called me AS SOON AS NIALL FUCKING HORAN'S MOUTH WASN'T KEEPING YOU OCCUPIED."   
"It was last night." Zayn said apologetically. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I fell asleep-"   
" _LAST NIGHT_?" Louis screeched shrilly. " _FELL ASLEEP_?  
"It was a hectic time!" Zayn protested feebly. "And now he's texting me all these cute and adorable and lovely things and I have no fucking clue how to respond and I'm kinda panicking mate, so could you be a bit more compassionate? Please?"   
"Oh holy Hell, it's too early for this." Louis huffed. "Zayn, of course he's gonna text you cute things, that's what a boyfriend does-"   
"Well-ah- we didn't actually talk about that?" Zayn said in a rush before Louis could say that word again. "Like, I kissed him and then we held hands for a bit and then we both went home and it was great, but we didn't talk about- that?"   
"Z A Y N." Louis bellowed. "You're a bloody travesty!" 

Through the phone, Zayn heard Louis rustling around. Distant thumping came through the speaker and Zayn wrinkled his eyebrows together in confusion.   
"What're you doing?"   
"Getting fucking dressed, and then I'm picking up Harry and Liam in my mum's van, and then we're all coming to get you, and you're asking Niall out on a date today, because at least one of us is gonna be in a proper fucking relationship, and it has to be you and Niall because-" 

Here, Louis' voice broke and he swallowed, pausing in whatever he was doing.   
"Because it's not me and Hazza." he finished, his voice growing more determined with every word. "So, figure out what Niall's favorite flowers are, because we're definitely buying some, wear something nice, I'll be there in twenty minutes." 

With that, Louis hung up the call, and Zayn was left staring down at the mobile in his hand, blinking in bewilderment. Flowers? Wear something nice? Did Zayn _own_ anything nice? And he had twenty minutes to do all this? Was that even possible? 

It took Zayn approximately two more seconds to decide what to do. And if you'd been in his current situation, you probably would've done the same thing.   
"MUM." 

 

"Get in loser, we're going shopping." Louis called from the driver's side of his van, leaning his head out the window. Zayn rushed down his driveway, almost slipping in the smart black dress shoes he was wearing. The last twenty minutes had been the most stressful of Zayn's life so far, in which he'd spent ten of those minutes explaining the entire situation to his mother, five trying to stop her from crying over "her baby growing up and getting in relationships and falling in-" (he hadn't let her finish that sentence), and the remaining five rummaging up a suit from his closet and putting it on. He doesn't know who the suit belonged to, why it was in his closet, or why it fit him, but at that point, Zayn decided to roll with the punches and just take it as good fucking luck. 

 

"Now is not the time to be quoting Mean Girls, Louis Tomlinson." Zayn babbled as he tumbled into the car, sitting in the backseat next to Liam. Harry turned around in the passenger seat, his eyes sparkling with mischief.   
"You clean up nicely, Zayn." he said teasingly. "But I think your tie could do with being tied."   
Zayn glanced down at his chest and stifled a curse, reaching for his neck with fumbling fingers. Liam gently brushed his hands away, turning Zayn to the left and doing the tie for him, smiling reassuringly at Zayn the entire time. He looked ready to burst with pride, actually. Louis looked back at Zayn in the rear-view mirror, grinning wickedly.   
"So, care to share the details of what happened last night, Malik?" he quipped. "Or was it so utterly flilthy that it can't be spoken about?"   
"Shut up." Zayn groaned, tugging at his hair with shaky hands, and Louis looked at him cajolingly.   
"C'mon mate, I'm just trying to make you laugh, make you less stressed out and stuff. How was it? Really?"   
"Yeah, Zayn, we wanna know really badly." Harry said, tag teaming with Louis as he peered over the headrest at Zayn, making his eyes wider. (Harry had _killer_ puppy eyes, and he knew it, too.)

Zayn sighed, resting his head against his seat in the car. He felt a small smile appear on his lips as he remembered, and he blushed slightly, feeling everyone else watch him, waiting for what he had to say.   
"It was-" he started. "It was utter perfection. _Niall_ is utter perfection. He-uh- well, he sang me a song, and like- obviously it wasn't written about us, but it felt like it was? And when the song ended, I had to kiss him. Like I dunno what I would've done if he hadn't wanted to kiss me back, it was that inevitable. And it was just- it made waiting for it worth it. He's so sweet and so good and I wanna kiss him for as long as he'll let me." 

Zayn swallowed, looking back up at all his friends. Harry was staring at him like this was one of those Nicholas Sparks films he loves. Liam looked like he was gonna die from excitement, actually sitting down on his hands to keep from applauding. And Louis- Louis' eyes were wet. He scrubbed at them fiercely with the back of his jumper, not looking at Zayn.   
"I want to be his boyfriend." Zayn said softly, his stomach flipping at the thought. "I want him to be mine."   
"Right then," Louis said thickly, clearing his throat as he put the keys into the ignition and pulled away from the curbside. "To the florist we go." 

Louis kept a hand on Harry's knee the entire time he drove, and nobody said a word about it. 

 

Zayn never thought that buying a bouquet of flowers would be difficult, but because everything in his life seemed difficult, here he was, staring down at millions of flowers with no clue what Niall's favorites were. He took a deep breath, leaning closer to a dozen roses, the cloying smell lingering in his nose.   
"I'm thinking roses, because he calls me petal, right? Right." Zayn said uneasily, toying with the plastic wrapping of the flowers.   
"Zayn, I'm sorry to break this to you, but all flowers have petals." Louis cut in, burrowing his way right next to Zayn and surveying the choices with sharp eyes.   
"Louis, leave him alone." Liam admonished mildly. "Roses are a beautiful and classic choice, Zayn. Everybody likes roses."   
"Niall's not everybody." Zayn mumbled worriedly. "What if he doesn't?"   
"But Zayn, they're coming from you." Harry said. "And Niall likes you. I think you could get him a handful of nettles and he kiss you all over your face for them. But since nettles probably aren't the best idea, roses should do the trick. Get the pink ones, they're pretty. And I read on Pinterest once that pink roses symbolize admiration, sweetness, and gentleness, which sorta sums you and Niall up." 

Harry's words, simple and kind, calmed Zayn. He sent a wobbly smile his way as his grip on the pink roses tightened. Taking them carefully out of their holder, Zayn walked over to the cashier, a sweet little old lady, as his friends walked in a huddle behind him. He laid the bouquet of flowers on the countertop and reached into his pocket for his wallet.   
"In the bad book's with the missus, eh?" the lady joked, taking Zayn's card and swiping it.   
"Something like that." Zayn replied quietly, trying to smile.   
"He's actually about to woo the boy of his dreams." Louis interjected as Zayn blushed, wanting to melt into his shoes. "His name's Niall, a sweet little Irish thing."   
"Oh." the cashier said in surprised, fiddling with her half moon glasses. "Well- well, good luck with that, sweet pea." 

Zayn grabbed his purchases and threw some spare change into the Foundation for the Poor jar, mumbling a thank you to the old woman and hurrying out of the store. His friends quickly caught up with him, laughing like the idiots they were.   
"Louis, is your goal in life to embarrass me to the point where I want to die?" Zayn asked as they all bundled back into the car. Louis slammed on the gas before Zayn's door was even closed, his body rocking back and forth. He was like a hound on a hunt: he'd caught the scent and now he wouldn't rest.   
"Definitely, Zayn. Always has been. Now, you might wanna buckle up. We can't keep poor Nialler waiting, can we?"   
No, they could not. They'd both waited long enough. 

 

As they pulled up outside Niall's house, Zayn felt like he was going to throw up up on the frosty curbside. He took a few deep breaths while he was still inside the car, gripping the roses so tightly that the thorns pricked his palms. Liam patted him on the shoulder comfortingly, his fingers pressing into the skin of the nape of Zayn's neck.   
"Li," Zayn said in a strangled voice. "I feel like I'm gonna get sick."   
Liam wrapped him into a hug, his hands rubbing up and down on Zayn's spine.   
"That's normal, Z. Good, even. It means you're serious about it."   
"I believe in you, Zayn!" Harry said supportively. "He won't say no, he'd be absolutely crazy if he did."   
Zayn blew out a breath, nodding firmly. He fixed his tie with one hand and opened the car door with the other. Stepping out of the vehicle, he straightened the jacket of his suit, feeling his hands tremble.   
"I'm going to die." Zayn said to himself. "Like, actually wipe out and die. This flowers will end up being for my funeral."   
With that lovely thought, Zayn started up the driveway, feeling butterflies erupt in his stomach. He walked up the path towards the house and stepped onto the porch. Gasping back some more air, he took the final step towards the front door. He glanced in the glass of the window, straightening his tie one last time. Reaching forward, he touched the hard plastic of the doorbell, and then rang it, doing his best not to hyperventilate. 

Zayn waited anxiously for the door to open, envisioning what Niall's face would look like, if he'd be smiling, if he'd be at all happy to see him. He wondered if he'd get to kiss him again today, which was a nice prospect but terrifying in its own way. He wondered if he'd die first. 

In fact, the only thing that _didn't_ cross Zayn's mind as he waited for the door to open was that Niall didn't live alone. 

"Zayn! Hello!" Mr. Horan said cheerily, opening the front door wide. As the voice registered in his head, Zayn stared at the older man in utter horror, clenching the roses so tightly that he felt blood spring up on his palms. He considered throwing the flowers behind the shrubs on the porch. Then he considered throwing himself behind the shrubs on the porch. He also considered impaling his neck on a thorn and ending it all right then. That was looking like his best option.   
"Hi Mr. Horan." he said numbly. "I uh- I-"   
"Come in, Zayn, come in!" he said, ushering Zayn inside, not seeming to notice what Zayn was wearing or what was in his hands. Zayn stepped inside the house, feeling dizzy. His hands hurt from the thorns, but he didn't focus on it, instead looking at the man in front of him in terror. 

"It's so good to see you again!" he said cheerily. "It's been an age, hasn't it?"   
Zayn nodded hurriedly, saying,   
"Yeah, yeah, too long."  
Mr. Horan looked at Zayn smilingly, seeming to finally take in his appearance. His eyes widened as he saw the suit and then even more once he noticed the roses. Zayn held his breath, wondering if a sniper would come in and take him out. But then Mr. Horan's face light up like the sun, a lot like his boy's does.   
"Are those for Niall?" he said in total delight, clasping his hands together. "Please tell me they are."   
"Uh- I- er- yes." Zayn stammered, feeling warmth creep up his neck and onto his cheeks. "Yes, they are. If- if that's okay?"   
"Okay?" Mr. Horan boomed, making Zayn jump. "Zayn, it's more than okay! Oh, I _knew_ it. Poor Niall can't hide anything, he's an open book. He was way too happy last night, and really, you'd think I'd never seen what a kissed mouth looks like before." 

Zayn choked slightly as Mr. Horan chuckled, folding his arms over his chest. He looked at Zayn again, and his eyes were twinkling merrily.   
"Has he- uh- has he told you anything?" Zayn said hoarsely, blushing all the way to his ears.   
"No, Niall hasn't told me anything about his sexuality, I'm not even sure if he knows himself. But I don't mind, whatever it is, because he's my son, and I adore him." Mr. Horan said, suddenly serious. "We only have one another, and I don't want to see him get hurt." 

Ah, so that's where this was going. Zayn gulped. nodding quickly.   
"Zayn, I really think you make him happy. It took him so long to find his smile, and I think he found it because of you. But I don't want him to lose it again because of you. You have to remember that he's a fair bit younger than you are, and inexperienced in a lot of things- so please- just don't push him into anything he's uncomfortable with-"   
"That's the last thing I'd do, Mr. Horan." Zayn promised fervently. "Niall- he- your son is something else. His smile as the first thing I noticed about him, and since then, the only thing I've wanted to do was make him smile."   
"Well, why don't you go upstairs and do just that." Mr. Horan said softly, his eyes damp as he nodded towards the landing of the stairs. "He's in his room." 

Zayn gave a nervous smile, his heart beating faster than a drum. He nodded his goodbyes to Mr. Horan, unable to speak, and then turned on his heel, walking towards the stairs. Gripping the railing like a life line, he started the climb upward, trying to even his breathing. He reached the second floor of the house without passing out and then turned left, heading towards Niall's room. He took a few moments to just stare at the faded door, gulping back a few more breaths.   
"I'm definitely going to die." he said with certainty as he raised his fist to the door and rapped against it with his knuckles.   
"Comin', Dad!" Zayn heard Niall's voice call, and his heart flipped. There were a few footfalls against the floorboards, and then the door was pulled open. 

For a few moments, Zayn just looked at Niall, taking him in. Niall dragged a hand down his face, yawning blearily. Then he run his fingers through his hair, his eyes screwed up tightly. Zayn stared, feeling a grin blossom across his cheeks. He still felt like he was going to faint, but seeing Niall in person eased the nerves a bit. At least, it gave him enough courage to not turn tail and run away. 

Niall opened his eyes, finally seeing Zayn. His mouth fell open as he looked up at him, eyes widening as he noticed Zayn's suit.   
"Hi." Zayn said breathlessly, feeling lame. Niall was still staring at him, blinking at the flowers in Zayn's hands. He seemed unable to speak. He swallowed, drawing in an uneven gasp of air.   
"Hiya." he mumbled. "I- uh- I- er- come in?"  
Niall stepped back into his bedroom, nearly tripping over his feet. Zayn followed him inside, hesitating before he shut the door behind himself. Turning around, he saw Niall standing in the centre of the room, his arms wrapped around his torso. Walking forward, Zayn moved until he was standing right in front of him, holding out the roses for him to take. 

"You brought me flowers." Niall whispered in delight, reaching over and gingerly touching one of the rosebuds. He took the flowers from Zayn, his warms hands brushing against Zayn's cold ones, and raised them to his face, smelling them.   
"You didn't have to do that, Zayn." Niall said earnestly, but by the pure happiness on his face, Zayn was pretty sure that he did. He might do it every day. Zayn gulped slightly as Niall reached over to him and touched the lapels of his suit jacket with gentle fingers.   
"What's all this for?" Niall asked, gesturing vaguely between the both of them. "Like, obviously it's brilliant, and I don't mind or anything, but- why?" 

_Because you deserve it._

_Because I don't know when I became such a sap, but I'm strangely okay with it, maybe I even like being this way._

_Because your smile makes my heart jump._

_Because I was your first kiss, and I want to be the second, and the third, and the millionth._

"Because-" Zayn started weakly. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight from side to side uneasily. He looked up and into Niall's eyes, focusing on the blue. Funny how something the color of the sky could ground him to the earth.   
"Because I figured that if I was asking somebody to be my boyfriend, I should look the part." Zayn said with determination. 

Time froze for a few moments: It was just Zayn and Niall, trapped in a bubble. Zayn felt anxiety course through his veins as he waited for Niall's response. In turn, it seemed that Niall had stopped breathing. He pressed a fist to his mouth, his other arm still around his stomach, and yes, Zayn was definitely going to die from this waiting. 

But then, slowly, Niall's head moved up and down in a nod. 

Whatever spell holding them in place was broken. Niall rushed towards Zayn, holding onto his waist with a tight grasp, the roses still clenching in one of his hands. He was still nodding hurriedly, resembling a bobble head.  
"Yes!" he said in a rush, finding his voice. "Yes, God, yes, yes, yes, I'd be fucking mental if I said no, oh my god."   
Zayn felt giddy with relief, drunk of it, high from it. But maybe that was just from the boy standing in front of him. Zayn reached for Niall, wrapping his arms around the boy's body and pulling him into his chest. They were both shaking, but it was the best kind, shaking from excitement. They were pressed chest to chest, swaying slightly from side to side. He could feel the rapid thumping of Niall's heart through the material of his shirt. Zayn rested his chin on the top of Niall's head to collect himself for a couple seconds, before looking down and saying,   
"So, dinner? This Saturday? With just me, this time? No other Malik family members allowed?" 

Niall burst out laughing, pressing his face into Zayn's chest to smother his giggles. Then he looked up at Zayn again, his eyes shining.   
"I'd like that a lot." he whispered. "Like- you have no idea how much."   
"Niall, I'm pretty sure I do." Zayn said fervently. Niall smiled again, but now he looked unsure of himself. His gaze flitted to Zayn's mouth quickly and stayed there, before coming back to Zayn's eyes.   
"Can I kiss you now?" he burst out, blushing bright red. "Because- I dunno if that becomes a- a regular thing, but I'd really like it to, and honestly, I haven't stopped thinking about yesterday and _mmph._ "

In one smooth movement, Zayn grabbed Niall by the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him closer. Then he leaned his head down, pressing their mouths together and cutting off Niall's words. But judging by how enthusiastically he responded, Zayn doubted that he cared much. Niall put his arms around Zayn's neck, standing on his toes to be closer to Zayn's height. Zayn moved backwards until he was between the wall of Niall's room and Niall's body, one hand on Niall's hip and the other corded through his hair. 

Zayn felt dizzy from Niall's soft mouth against his. The kiss had started out chaste, but like many things in life, went elsewhere: i.e, Zayn was doing his best not to ram his tongue down Niall's throat, because this was only the second time he'd kissed anybody and that might be mildly traumatic. To stop himself, Zayn broke off the kiss and Niall tipped his head back, full on pouting because he'd backed away. Zayn wasn't quite done yet though. He inclined his head downward and started to kiss Niall's neck, easily finding his pulse point and focusing his attention on it.   
"Jesus Christ." Niall swore under his breath. "Not fair, not fair at all." 

But Niall's protestations were negated by the fact that he tipped his head back further, exposing more of his neck. Zayn smiled against his skin, beginning to work a small bruise right over Niall's pulse. Niall gasped quietly, his free hand grabbing hold to Zayn's shirt.   
"Everybody's- gonna see that, ya know." Niall managed to say.   
"Don't care." Zayn replied through his kisses. "And I don't think you care much either. But I'll stop if-"   
"No!" Niall said hurriedly, and Zayn could feel him blushing, could feel all the blood rushing to his neck. "God, no, don't, this is probably the best thing that's ever happened me."   
"You don't have to ask to kiss me, Niall." Zayn continued. "And it should definitely be a regular thing."   
Zayn chose that moment to bite down harder on Niall's neck, and the poor guy's legs almost dropped out from underneath him. He stifled an endeared laugh, soothing the red skin of Niall's neck with his mouth.   
"And, if you want, this can become a regular thing too." he whispered, chuckling a bit as Niall nodded eagerly. Zayn moved his head back up and pressed a light kiss to the tip of Niall's nose, feeling his steady blue eyes watch him.   
"You're my boyfriend." he whispered, feeling his heart thud. "You're mine."   
"Yours." Niall breathed back. "S'all I've wanted to be since I met you. I thought you were lovely then, and I think you're lovely now." 

One more kiss, one more cuddle, and then, Zayn was pulling away, intertwining his hand with Niall's. He was smiling so hard, his cheeks ached. Niall pouted at the loss of contact, but Zayn didn't lean in and kiss him again. He had a feeling he didn't have to worry about the number of kisses they'd share: in fact, he had a feeling there'd be a lot. 

 

"Well, would you look at the happy couple!" Louis crowed proudly, leaning his head out the window of his car. Niall and Zayn walked down the driveway together, holding hands. Niall almost slipped on some ice, and Zayn felt the sudden urge to scoop him up in his arms. Somehow, he resisted it, choosing just to cling onto Niall's fingers. 

Niall looked at Louis, sticking his tongue out at him. After coming downstairs, they had been ushered out of house by Mr. Horan, being told to "go. have some fun with their mates." Niall had carefully deposited the roses in a vase of water and rushed to get his coat, grabbing Zayn's hand and pulling him out of the house before he could talk to his dad much. (Niall didn't know that Zayn had already had a couple heart-to-hearts with the man.) 

Harry shoved his face next to Louis' through the window, whooping excitedly as he saw Zayn and Niall. He opened his mouth wide, molars visible.   
"Yes yes yes yes!!!" he babbled, his voice uncharacteristically fast. Niall blushed, tucking his face into the crook of Zayn's neck, which made Harry yell even louder. Zayn smiled down at Niall and then stepped forward, opening the side door of the vehicle for him. They bundled into the car, Liam hurling himself into the final row of seats so Zayn and Niall could sit together. Zayn shot him a grateful smile before clicking his seatbelt into place. Niall reached over and tugged at the belt around Zayn's waist, checking to make sure it was tight enough.   
"You're learning." he said with quiet satisfaction, a smile creeping across his face.  
"It seems you're rubbing off on me." Zayn replied, knowing he'd wear a million seat belts if it made Niall smile like that.   
"Jesus bloody Christ, you're _begging_ for an innuendo." Louis groaned as he put the car into drive. "Hush, Louis." Harry admonished gently, tapping Louis' knee with his long fingers. He looked back at the other three again, smiling cheerily.   
"Where to?" he asked, gesturing to the open road. 

Where to, indeed? Zayn felt like he could go to the sun, the stars, could go lasso the moon and bring it back home. He felt like he could swim across the ocean and trek across North America. He'd go to Pluto and re- declare it a planet. He wasn't terrified anymore, how weird it seemed that he'd been terrified by the word "lovely." 

Niall was lovely. Absolutely, utterly, lovely. Zayn looked over at him and grinned, before leaning down and resting his head on the boy's shoulder.   
"I don't care." he said simply, grabbing Niall's free hand and bringing it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the palm. Niall glanced at him, before reaching over and gingerly smoothing down his hair. Zayn looked up at him and felt his breath catch. He was so beautiful. 

Zayn felt like he could go anywhere with this boy beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a shorter, fluffier chapter for you guys :3 (Sorry if it's not as good as some of the others, I hope you liked it anyway) Comments and kudos make me happy ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, confession time: I seriously considered abandoning this fanfiction after Zayn left the band. 
> 
> I didn't know how it was going to work, with him not being apart of it anymore, considering that this fic is from Zayn's point of view. I thought that I could end it where the last chapter stopped, because it was happy and Zayn and Niall had just gotten together officially. 
> 
> But then, as a couple days passed, I didn't want to stop. I had so much planned for this fic, the whole thing is basically plotted until the very end. I didn't want to stop, because I love writing it and I believe that there are some of you out there that love reading it. 
> 
> Now, this being said, please know that this chapter probably isn't as good as some of my others. It has felt weird to write, and I'm just trying to find my rhythm again. Please let me know what you think about this chapter: I could really use it for this one :) Thank you all <3

Zayn had never been so happy to wake up on a Monday morning. He bounded out of bed, threw on his uniform, not bothering to do the tie. He waltzed into the kitchen, pecked his mum on the cheek and grabbed a green apple for breakfast. He could've driven to school, but he chose to walk. It was a typical January day: cold, but bright. Zayn strolled through the streets of town, biting through the bitter skin of the apple. He hummed a tune under his breath, recognizing it as something Niall had been singing to himself on Saturday. 

God, Zayn was obsessed. They'd barely lost contact through the entire weekend, either being in each other's presence or texting in all the time between. But right now, Zayn felt like he hadn't seen Niall in weeks, even though it had only been a day since he'd last seen him. He was like a drug: a beautiful drug, and Zayn needed to get his next hit. He just wanted to stay high, and on this gorgeous winter morning, Zayn felt like he was never gonna come back down. 

In fact, Zayn didn't come come crashing down until he got to school that morning. 

He'd been grand as he walked into school, backpack on his shoulders and arms swinging. He'd sauntered through the halls, heading towards the student commons. He paused by his locker, opening it and grabbing his English textbook. Looking up from his locker door, he saw Ms. Tissons walking toward him. She smiled at him gently as he stood, pushing back a lock of blonde hair from her eyes. Zayn couldn't help but smile as he saw what she was wearing. It was a tight fitting white blouse and knee length forest green skirt. The color brought out the greenish tones in her blue eyes, and Zayn could only imagine what Ms. Waverly would be thinking -and feeling- when she saw the other teacher.  
"Good morning, Zayn." she said softly. "How're you? How was your weekend?"  
"I'm fantastic, Ms. Tissons, thank you!" Zayn replied cheerily, unable to keep the grin off his face. "And my weekend was awesome, too. Yourself?"  
"I'm- hanging in there." she replied, after a moment of thought, pursing her lips together. "I-uh- I have some decisions to make, after this weekend, but I- I hope they're for the best.  
Zayn's eyes flicked down as Ms. Tisson's right hand went to fiddle with a ring on her left, and he swallowed, knowing what it meant automatically. A ring on the fourth finger of a woman's left hand could only mean one thing.  
"Did you get engaged this weekend, Ms. Tissons?" Zayn asked, trying to sound enthused, because isn't that what you're supposed to sound like when someone plans for marriage? Anyway, he's not meant to know that her boyfriend's a dickhead or that another female faculty member is madly in love with her. 

The Chemistry teacher nodded, smiling limply.  
"Yes- well, not quite- it's a trial thing. My fiancée and I- we've got some things to work out before it becomes official. But he wants me to wear the ring, and I don't really have the energy to fight him on it, so there it is."  
Zayn nodded, zipping up his backpack after he placed the textbook inside it. Ms. Tissons sighed quietly, smoothing down the front of her skirt.  
"You wouldn't happen to know if Wren- excuse me, Ms. Waverly, is in school yet, would you?" she asked suddenly, her voice hopeful. "I could really use a talk with her, and considering that you're her absolute favourite student, I thought you might know where she is this time of day. I only ever see her after school." 

_So that's why you're never in the art room after school anymore, Ms. Waverly_. Zayn thought in amusement. _"Street art" my arse. You're fucking around in the Chemistry lab with Ms. Tissons. Hopefully not literally, that'd be unethical._

"She'd either be in the art room right now or scrounging up some coffee in the teacher's lounge." Zayn said. Ms. Waverly never shut up about how bad the school's coffee was.  
"Oh!" his companion exclaimed, clasping a hand to her forehead. "I brought her a coffee this morning, from my house. She always looks so tired, so I thought I'd give her a caffeine boost. I'll see you in class, Zayn! Thank you!" 

With that, Ms. Tissons strode away, moving faster than Zayn thought her capable. He smiled, rolling his eyes. Poor. Ms. Waverly. She was about to be ambushed by two of her favourite things: coffee and her blonde. Zayn almost felt sorry for her. 

But it was time to go see his blonde now. Zayn closed his locker tightly and bolted off, moving as fast as his legs would carry him. Maybe he and his Chemistry teacher have things in common. 

 

"Mornin' Zayn!" Liam called cheerily from his usual place in the green armchair of the student commons. Zayn walked forward, taking off his backpack and setting it on the ground. Harry's head popped up from behind the back of the blue sofa to look at Zayn, his curls askew and sticking out at odd angles. Louis was curled up beside him, looking exhausted, and he feebly raised a hand in Zayn's direction as a greeting.  
"Hi, Z." he said tiredly, shutting his eyes. "Sorry for not getting up, mate, I didn't sleep well." 

Zayn studied him closely, not liking his appearance. His blue eyes were dull, with dark bags sagging beneath them. His knees were draw up to his chest, and he clung to Harry's body tightly. Harry was rubbing circles into his back, absentmindedly, as if he didn't even realize he was doing it. But he didn't look too worried, so Zayn figured whatever was wrong couldn't be too bad. 

Or Louis simply hadn't shared his troubles with Harry. 

And if Zayn knew Louis at all, he'd figure it was the second option. Resolving himself to talk to Louis about things later, Zayn told himself not to spoil this morning with worries. Because now was when he got to see Niall. Zayn turned on his heels, feeling his smile get bigger at just the thought of seeing him. Niall's sitting exactly where Zayn expected him to be: on the faded maroon sofa that that Zayn had privately come to view as "their's", because they always sat there together. But this was the first time they'd be sitting there as boyfriends, and Zayn was amazed by how excited he was just for that. 

Niall's blonde head was bowed over a textbook on his knee, his eyes poring over the words of Whitman. His backpack was perched on the space beside him, and Zayn figured the space was for him, but he didn't move the bag. Niall didn't seem to realize Zayn was there yet, which meant he could have some fun with this. 

Creeping around behind the back of the couch, Zayn leaned down and curled his arms around Niall's body, hooking his chin on the other boy's shoulder. Niall stiffened automatically in surprise, gasping slightly. He looked at Zayn, his eyes wide and darting around.  
"Good morning." Zayn said cheerily, pressing a gentle kiss to the soft skin of Niall's cheek. Zayn smiled down at Niall happily, feeling his eyes crinkle at the sides, in a way he used to hate until he saw that Niall's did the same thing. 

Niall blinked up at Zayn for a few seconds, his mouth gaping open and closed. And then he uncerimoniously threw his textbook down to the floor, hurling himself out of Zayn's grasp and onto the floor to pick it up.  
"M-mor-morning." Niall stammered, blushing beet red as he scrambled to his feet. His hands were rapidly smoothing down the cover of the textbook, checking it for damage. Zayn felt his grin slide off his face as he recognized Niall's clear agitation. He was staring at the scuffed toes of his school shoes, unable to keep his legs still. Zayn frowned, stepping toward Niall and reaching out to him, grazing his fingers across the inside of Niall's nearest wrist.  
"Niall?" he said softly angling his head down so he could see Niall's bowed face. "You alright?"  
If anything, Zayn's touch seemed to stress Niall out more. He flinched away from Zayn's gentle hand like he'd been burned, looking around wildly to see if anyone was around.  
"I- I think I have to go." Niall gasped, pushing past Zayn to get to his backpack and heaving it up onto his shoulders. He looked at Zayn, an apologetic expression flickering across his face. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again, whirling around and rushing away, his frame small. 

It took Zayn .002 seconds to run after him, wondering how a happy mood- and a happy boy- could fade away so quickly. 

 

"Niall?" Zayn called, watching as his boyfriend disappeared around the corner into the boy's toilets, all the way down the hallway."Niall!"  
Zayn jogged to catch up to Niall, nearly skidding on the slippy floors of the school. He grabbed the wall to keep himself upright and followed the path Niall had just taken, pausing by the lavatories and looking at the heavy wooden door. He took a deep breath, passing a hand over his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. What was happening? Why was Niall acting so odd? They'd literally been nauseatingly cute for the past two days: what had changed in the time that Zayn said goodbye to him last night and now? 

There was only one thing for it. Zayn pushed the door open, taking a deep breath. He stepped inside the toliet, seeing Niall standing by the furthest mirror, bracing his hands against the sink and bowing over. Zayn could hear his rapid breathing from where he stood.  
"Niall." Zayn breath, shutting the door quietly and walking forward slowly. "Niall, babe, what's up?" 

Niall's head snapped up to look at Zayn and he took another strangled breath, pressing the palms of his hands against his slim stomach. He shuddered, shaking his head from side to side. Zayn kept his distance, not wanting to infringe on his personal space. Niall pressed a hand to his mouth, biting down on the inside of his thumb. Zayn looked at him steadily, making sure to keep his words measured.  
"Niall, whatever I did wrong, please tell me, so I know not to go it again, okay?" he said quietly. "Just tell me, I won't be hurt, we've gotta communicate, you know?"  
"You didn't do anything wrong." Niall said. "You did what anyone would expect you to do in our situation. You did what you thought I'd like, and I did like it, except-" 

Here, Niall's voice faded out and he bit down harder on the skin of his hand. Zayn had the urge to grab it away, to stop him from hurting himself, because that hurt Zayn too.  
"Except?" Zayn pressed encouragingly.  
"Except I'm not out." Niall said tiredly, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. 

Realization hit Zayn like a freight train with what Niall said. He blinked as the weight of Niall's words washed over him, almost staggering because it was so, painfully obvious. Niall wasn't out of the closet, at least not officially, he hadn't even put a label to what his sexuality was. And not that Zayn minded that at all, but he was kicking himself over not being more cautious. Poor Niall, basically being ambushed by a boy in the middle of the student centre/ library, a pretty huge sign of being Not Straight. No wonder he'd thrown himself out of Zayn's arms. He must've felt like an animal in a trap, with everyone watching his struggle. 

"I'm an idiot." Zayn said woodenly. "A total idiot."  
"No, no, you're not." Niall said hurriedly, waving his hands hurriedly. "You're not! I should've mentioned before that I wouldn't be totally comfortable at school, and I know that you're out and proud and you've never had a problem but- I'm not you, Zayn." 

Niall was slowly de-stressing, Zayn could tell just from his body language, so he'd figured it'd be safe to approach him. He stepped toward Niall slowly, reaching over and pulling his hand away from his mouth, interlocking their fingers tightly to keep him from bringing it back. He smiled smally, and Niall returned it, giving his hand a tight squeeze.  
"I'm not brave like you, or charismatic like you, or- or sexy like you-"  
Niall blushed at what he'd just said, biting down on his bottom lip so a single dimple appeared on his right cheek. Zayn leaned in and quickly pressed his lips to the spot, just wanting to kiss some part of him.  
"Well, it's reassuring you think I'm sexy." Zayn teased lightheartedly. "I thought you were after me for my brain, which isn't too grand, if I'm honest."  
"Shhh," Niall said fondly, his eyes regaining some of their usual twinkle. "The point is, you're everything I'm not and never will be, and you have the strength to handle things I can't, so if we could just keep it quiet, I guess? At least, for now?"  
"You're a million times better than me Niall, in every aspect." Zayn responded, leaning his forehead against Niall's, the tip of Zayn's nose touching the bridge of his. "But I understand, completely. I shouldn't have sprung myself on you like that, it was crazy. And I'm never gonna force you into anything you don't want or feel unsettled by, so yes, I'm fine with us being a secret from everyone who doesn't matter."  
"A secret." Niall repeated, his smile widening. "I like that. You're my little secret: my wonderful, beautiful secret."  
"And you're mine." 

Zayn pressed his lips to Niall's shortly, tasting sweetness in his mouth. Niall slowly reached up and cupped Zayn's cheeks with his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the stubble there. Zayn pulled back from Niall, holding his hand and bringing his bitten thumb to his lips, kissing the indents from Niall's teeth on his skin.  
"Why'd you do that?" he asked softly. "The thumb thing, I mean."  
"I dunno." Niall replied with a shrug. "It helps me focus, always has. The- slight pain of it brings me back to myself, I suppose."  
“Right.” Zayn said, somewhat uneasily, not really understanding. But he decided not to push it, feeling that he’d, however unknowingly, put Niall through enough this morning. The warning bell for homeroom rang and the two boys looked at each other. They’d definitely be late, but really, Zayn couldn’t find it in himself to care much. 

The boyfriends walked out of there holding hands, and when Niall’s hand slipped out of Zayn’s, he tried to push away the feeling of pain that took its place. 

 

_What's up, bro?_

**The sky, my dear Malik.**

_Louis, seriously. You seemed weird at school today._

**......Can you come over? Easier to explain in person.**

_Yeah, on my way._

**Wear your elbow and knee pads please, I could use a laugh.**

_Fuk u mate._

**Luv ya :DDDDDD**

 

When Zayn walked into Louis' room that night, he was blasting music so loud that Zayn could feel it pounding in his eardrums. He shuts the dooor behind him, turning to look at Louis. He's laying flat on his bed, belting out the lyrics to the angst-filled song that's playing. Zayn walks over to the bedside table, switching the radio off and sitting down beside Louis on the bed.  
"Hi." he said simply, looking at his friend. Louis blinked back up at him from where he's lying, his fringe sticking to his forehead and his cheeks red. With a start, Zayn saw that there are traces of tears on his face.  
"You alright, mate?" Zayn asked, patting Louis' knee with his right hand. Louis furiously shook his head, shoving his face into his pillow. He scrubbed at his cheeks with the back of his hand, trying to hide his tears from Zayn.  
"Put the music back on." he said petulantly. "My Chemical Romance makes me feel better when I feel like shit."  
"That band is dead, man." Zayn replied, fighting a wry smile. "And I think talking to me about it would make you feel better." 

Louis sighed, nodding slowly. He sat up, turning so he was sitting the same way as Zayn. He leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands, blowing out a breath. He glanced at Zayn, his face desolate. They were silent for a few more moments until Louis finally spoke.  
"My dad called me last night." he admitted at last, shrugging his shoulders. 

Louis let that sink in with Zayn before he continued talking. Zayn reached over and gripped his elbow, trying to pour some of his silent support into the boy. Louis gulped, leaning his head on Zayn's shoulder and shutting his eyes.  
"And it wasn't even for any reason, Z. It seemed like he just wanted a chat, like he was off on a business trip for a week and wanted to catch up on how his- his son's last couple days had been, not the last couple years. He was asking me about school, and my mates, if- if I had anyone special." 

Louis swallowed and Zayn felt the movement against his shoulder. Louis tightened his grip on Zayn, shaking slightly. He opened his eyes, and they were full of tears.  
"I couldn't tell him, Zayn." he whispered, voice cracking slightly. "This is the first time he's tried to- I dunno- contact me? Father me? And as much as I complain about him, as much as I say I hate him, I wanted to give him the chance, I guess? Which I probably shouldn't, but- anyway. I wanted to tell him about Hazza, wanted to say "Look, there's this boy that I love and I don't really give a shit if you care." 

Louis broke off, wiping at his eyes again. Zayn just watched him, his expression not flickering. Zayn can't relate to what he's going through: he's always had a supportive family unit. Zayn can't imagine not having that. Louis was stronger than he would ever be.  
"But he'd run." Louis said with finality. "He'd run, and I've watched him walk out of my life before, and I don't think I'd survive if I had to go through that again, especially if he left because I'm in love with a boy." 

Louis pressed his face into Zayn's bicep, trembling. He fought back a sob, swearing under his breath. Clenching his hands into fists on his knees, he gasped back some air, shaking his head from side to side.  
"So, obviously, I didn't sleep well last night, having my crisis over unwanted love of father versus wanted love of boy. I cried a lot, considered calling my dad back and saying "fuck you", considering calling Harry and saying "I love you," wrote half a song for Harry-"  
"What?" Zayn asked, surprised. Louis wasn't really the poetic type: Zayn couldn't see him strumming a guitar and scribbling lyrics in a notebook.  
"I wrote half a song." Louis mumbled, his cheeks reddening. "Like, the refrain and part of a verse, I guess. It's not good, it's utter shit, actually, but- I needed to do something and it seemed like a good idea at the time, so-"  
"Can I see it?" Zayn asked hesitantly, his curiosity piqued. He knew it was a private thing just for Louis, but he thought that if he read the lyrics of the song, Zayn might get a better grasp as to where his friend's head was right now. 

Louis looked at him, considering. Then he nodded, leaning over to his bedside table and grabbing a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it out, flicking his eyes over the words quickly before he handed it to Zayn. Probably making sure none of what he'd written was too personal. He passed it to Zayn, who rested it on his knee and looked down. It took him a few moments to decipher Louis' messy scrawl, but once he did, he settled down to read the lyrics comfortably. 

"I'm sorry if I say I need you, but I don't care, I'm not scared of love." Zayn read aloud, his voice hushed. "Cause when I'm not with you, I'm weaker..."  
"Is it so wrong, is it so wrong, that you make me strong?" Louis finished in a broken whisper, covering his face with his hands. "The first line is a lie, because I'm fucking terrified of love. But the second...that's all true. He's my strength and he's my love and he's my home, and when he's not around, I am weak. I fall to pieces in his arms and he holds all of me until I can put myself back together. And if I can't do it, he does it for me." 

Louis stopped, taking in a deep breath. He passed a hand over his face, trying to pull himself somewhat together.  
"That's why I wouldn't let go of him this morning." he said tiredly, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "I get scared sometimes that if I let him go, he'll- he'll run too. Just like my dad. He'll run and I'll have nobody there to hold all my broken pieces and fit them together like a jigsaw. So I cling to him with all my strength. But recently, as you know, I've felt myself slipping. My grip on him is loosening, I am slipping away, and all I can do is hold on tighter and hope he holds me just as tight." 

Zayn pulled Louis in for a long hug, his breath tickling Louis' neck. He rubbed his hands up and down Louis' back, humming softly on his breath. Louis didn't say anything, his arms limp around Zayn.  
"Louis, I really think you should tell him." Zayn said softly. "I'm sure he feels the same, because anyone can see that his grip on you is not loosening. He loves you, Louis, even if he can't say it to you and you to him. A love like that- sometimes I don't think it even needs to be spoken." 

Louis nodded and flopped down on his bed, grabbing Zayn's hand and tugging him down by wide him. They lay there, side by side, Louis hooking their ankles together. He looked at him seriously, his blue eyes somber.  
"You're a good friend to me, Zayn." Louis said softly. "Not many people would drop everything and come listen to me gripe."  
"You're a better friend, Lou." Zayn replied. "Operation Leprecuan, remember? You're the mastermind behind that." 

Louis smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, and Zayn wondered just when everything was going to fall apart, and who was going to put Louis back together when it did. 

 

Lying in his own bed that night, Zayn felt his phone vibrate on his chest. He picked it up and squinted against the light of the screen, reading the message. It's a photo of Niall, sitting at his kitchen table with a plate of biscuits in front of him, along with a text. 

_Dare me to eat all of these, I beg. I can't rationalize it any other way._

_Niall, it's almost midnight. You'll get a stomachache._

_You underestimate my power, petal. I am mighty. And also hungry._

 

Zayn sat up in bed, smiling down at his phone in delight. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest, and he felt a small growing across his face as he studied the picture of Niall. He was wearing blue pajamas, his hair was a mess, and he looked cuddly, his eyes sleepy and soft and puppy-like. He looked like he was glowing in the soft light of his kitchen. Zayn knew he'd compared Niall to light many times, but lying there, looking at that picture, he thought of one more light comparison that he liked most of all. White light. 

_You're none of those things. You're white light: all the colors in the world, all at once, and you are bright and you are beautiful._

Zayn shut his eyes, pressed "Send" and tried to understand how one person could make you feel everything, all at once


	13. Chapter 13

Saturday was the night of Zayn's first date with Niall, it wasn't even five-thirty, and he'd thrown up from nerves twice. Zayn staggered up from the toilet and over to the bathroom sink, taking in his haggard complexion. He's pale, sweaty, and trembling, looking nauseous and feverish at the same time. 

"It's gonna be okay." he told his wan reflection, trying to look firm. "It's gonna be fine, you're not gonna fuck this up. You're just getting dinner and then possibly going for a walk afterwards, but only if he wants to." 

Zayn paused to swallow, flicking his tongue over his dry lips. He blew out a breath, grabbing a towel and hanging it up, before reaching over to the shower and switching it on. He glanced back in the mirror, nodding one more time. 

"You just want to spend time with him, and that's all he wants too. It's going to be alright. It's going to be amazing." 

 

One shower later, Zayn was back in his room, ripping through his closet and trying to find something suitable to wear. He wrapped his towel around his waist and ventured deeper into the closet, for once wishing he had Louis with him to throw clothes his way and decide how he's gonna look. He decided not to resurrect the suit from last weekend, but jeans and a t-shirt seemed too casual for something as important as this. 

"He likes my tattoos, right?" Zayn mumbles to himself, shifting through the shirts hanging in front of him. "So, like, maybe if I had a few of them on show? Would that be alright?" 

 

Obviously, nobody answered him and Zayn sighed, wishing he could read Niall's mind or that they could have telepathic communication. In the end, he decided on a blue buttonup shirt, with a white tank top underneath. He unearthed some non-ripped jeans from the bottom of his cupboard and put them on. Leaving the shirt unbuttoned, he rolled the sleeves up, a couple of his various tattoos visible. Walking downstairs, he grabbed his wallet and his keys from the kitchen countertop. His sisters were sitting in the living room and they called "Good luck Zayn! Tell Niall we say hi!" as he walked out the door. Blushing, Zayn shut the door tightly behind him, knowing that his mum must've told his sisters about his date and resolving to tell her nothing ever, ever again. 

 

Zayn stepped astride his motorbike, making sure the spare helmet was hanging on the handle bar. He'd even bought more pads, keeping them in his pocket in case Niall wanted to wear them. He drove to Niall's house, his stomach twisting with nerves. Zayn tried to breathe evenly as he travelled closer and closer, but it wasn't quite working. And he nearly stopped breathing altogether as Niall's home came into view, rolling over to the footpath and parking. 

 

Zayn was sitting there, just breathing and trying not to vomit for the third bloody time this night, when he heard the front door of Niall's house open. Looking up, he saw the boy himself walk out, calling back a hurried "see ya later, dad!" over his shoulder. Niall walked down the driveway towards Zayn, and he felt his anxiety decreasing every step that Niall came closer. Zayn stepped off the bike, feeling his hands shake slightly. To hid them, he shoved them deep inside his jeans pockets, trying to look nonchalant. 

 

Niall beamed up at Zayn as he walked, the brilliance of his smile radiating at least ten feet outward. He was dressed similarly to Zayn, faded blue jeans and green polo that covered his hands. Zayn smiled right back, feeling his cheeks redden. He was so nervous, but so excited, and Niall looked so lovely, and this felt like too much, but also not enough. 

 

_It' s going to be amazing._

 

"Hi." Niall said simply as he stopped in front of Zayn, scuffing the concrete beneath his feet with the toe of his shoe. 

"Hi." Zayn repeated, feeling dumb because there were some many other things he could've said. Niall just looked at Zayn for a few moments, drumming his fingers against his thighs and looking unsure. Zayn hurriedly took his hands out of his pockets and pulled Niall into him, enveloping him in his arms. He felt Niall smile against his chest and he pressed his lips to the top of his head. 

"How're you?" he asked, as Niall looked up at him, his chin on Zayn's collarbone. 

"I'm- I'm wonderful." Niall replied, and Zayn wasn't sure if his heart was supposed to beat this quickly. 

"I would've gone to the door and gotten you, you know." Zayn said, linking his hand with Niall's and guiding him towards the motorcycle, putting a hand on the middle of his back. 

"I know." Niall said back. "But I wanted to save you from my dad. He could talk for Ireland, and he'd probably give you a long lists of rules and regulations for tonight and they're all stupid and-" 

"Niall, if your dad needs to talk to me about tonight, please let me. Seriously, I don't want him to like- _hate_ me or anything-" Zayn said worriedly, pausing to look back at the darkened house. 

"Zayn, I'm pretty sure he loves you more than he loves me." Niall said with a wry smile. "And I'm positive he was more nervous for tonight than I was, which is saying something. Don't worry about it." 

"Can you at least tell me what some of the rules are?" Zayn asked and Niall nodded slowly, looking as if he was choosing his words carefully. He considered for a few more moments and then spoke. 

 

"I don't have a curfew, but he wants me home before he wakes up tomorrow morning." 

"Totally manageable." Zayn said with a quick nod. Did Mr. Horan think he was gonna abduct his son and never return him or something? (Except Zayn thought that having Niall by his side forever wouldn't be half bad. It sorta sounded like paradise.) 

"I pay for either both of us, or at least myself." Niall said firmly, pulling out his wallet and showing it to Zayn. 

"Not happening." Zayn responded with a shake of his head, taking Niall's wallet from him and slipping it back into his back pocket. He tried to ignore the warmth of Niall's skin seeping into his hand. 

"Zayn, c'mon, you can't let me pay for nothing-" 

"I can, very easily. I asked you out, remember?" Zayn said with a smile. "I'm paying." 

 

Niall tried to look frustrated, but he couldn't fight the smile on his lips, and Zayn couldn't fight the urge to kiss him. He'd wanted to since he'd seen him on the doorstep. Leaning down, he pecked Niall's mouth gently, lightly running his tongue over his bottom lip. Niall shivered, and Zayn doubted it was from the chilly January air. 

"Next rule?" Zayn asked against Niall's mouth, his breath hot, and Niall groaned quietly, holding onto Zayn's neck. 

"If you think I can bloody concentrate and remember them with you distracting me-" 

"M'not distracting you." Zayn argued teasingly, kissing up and down Niall's jawline and he giggled, squirming away. Zayn filed this information away for later use, in Places Where Niall Is Ticklish. 

 

"Rule Three." Niall said breathlessly, pulling back from Zayn. "Drive safe." 

"I'd never drive dangerously while you're with me, Ni." he said softly. "Never." 

"You better not be implying that you drive dangerously when I'm not around, petal." Niall said as he broke away from Zayn and moved towards the motorcycle, sitting on the back. Zayn suddenly remembered the first time he'd ridden it, how terrified he'd been. That was only a couple months ago, and yet Niall had changed so much. He'd _grown_ so much, and Zayn had barely even noticed. 

 

Zayn suddenly felt sadness bear down upon him, and he wondered if it was possible to never take his eyes off Niall again, so he wouldn't miss those changes. Zayn moved towards the bike, putting on his own helmet and handing the spare back to Niall. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the extra pads, offering them to his boyfriend. 

"I dunno if you wanna wear these or not -the roads aren't bad at all today, it's just freshly fallen snow, no ice or anything- but I thought I'd get them in case you wanted them, so-"

 

Niall patted Zayn's hand, his blue eyes clear through the screen of the helmet. He looked at the pads and then shook his head, looking back at the dark-haired boy. 

"I trust you, Zayn." he said softly, taking Zayn's hand fully now. "More than I've ever trusted anyone." 

 

And Zayn thought no statement was truer than that. Niall was trusting him with so much: his thoughts, his feelings, his-his _everything_. Niall was delicate, in every sense of the word. His body was physically delicate, definitely. Zayn sometimes thought that if he fell too hard, he'd shatter. But it was more than that. Niall was a delicate soul. He held quiet sentiments inside his head, little diamonds of thought that would shatter if dropped. Zayn wished he could crawl inside his brain and get to see everything: every desire, every dream, every memory. 

 

And Zayn thought that _this_ , this moment on the motorcycle, was Niall slowly letting him in. He was trusting Zayn not to drop him. 

 

"Put them on anyway, Ni." 

 

Much to Zayn's chagrin, the restaurant he'd chosen was packed. It was this tiny, Americana place on the edge of town: a diner-style joint where everything is white and red linoleum and the staff wear striped aprons and roller skates. It wasn't fancy, because Niall had begged him not to "bring him to a place where there's a million different forks or the menu is all in French or something." It was a nice place though. Comfy, and Zayn figured they could both use something like that tonight. Except, because Zayn's luck was shit, tonight the entire population of their town seemed to want to eat here. 

 

"We can go somewhere else." Zayn said automatically as they pulled into the final parking spot in the lot and he turned the engine off. "It looks jammed, and I know you don't like crowded places-" 

"It's grand, Zayn." Niall said, voice muffled by his helmet. Zayn jumped as Niall put a reassuring hand on the small of his back, closer to the waistband than he'd expected him to go. Niall giggled softly, hooking his chin on Zayn's shoulder. "I'll be fine." 

 

They got off the bike and took of their helmets, throwing the pads into them and hanging them on the handlebar. They walked side by side towards the diner, Zayn glancing at Niall's swinging hand as they moved. He wanted to hold him, to claim some part of him, to announce to everyone around that _this boy is mine_. But- considering the amount of people around, they were bound to know some of them from school, and Zayn didn't want to destroy Niall's evening by displaying his affection too openly. Niall felt his stare and he looked up at him, smiling sweetly. 

"My first date ever." he said quietly. "M' excited." 

 

Zayn smiled too, endeared by how genuine he was. There was no false pretenses with Niall: what you saw was what you got. And Zayn was excited too, because technically, this was his first date too. First date with a boy, definitely. He and Perrie had gone on "dates", where all they really did was sit in the furthest row of the cinema and snog the faces off each other. Not that he'd necessarily _mind_ doing that with Niall, but this was the first romantic date he'd ever been on, and he could feel the butterflies deep in his stomach, knowing Niall had put them there. 

"I'm excited to be with you." Zayn said gently, reaching over and grazing his fingers along the inside of Niall's wrist, feeling his pulse flutter. Niall colored slightly and bit his lip in delight, gripping Zayn's hand shortly. They reached the front door and Zayn held it open for Niall, exaggerating a bow. Niall chuckled and stepped inside, nodding at Zayn. 

"Thank you, kind sir." he said approvingly, giggling. 

"Anything for the fairest lad in the land." he cooed, going along with the charade and sticking his tongue out at Niall. His boyfriend beamed back, seemingly not affronted at all. 

"Damn right, I'm the fairest land in the land. Well, maybe second fairest, after you." 

 

They stepped into the main lobby of the restaurant, pushing their way through the seemingly millions of people. Thank fuck Zayn had made a reservation for 6:30, or else they'd be here all night waiting on a table. Zayn said his name to the hostess and she passed them along to the nearest waitress, who, surprise surprise, was on roller skates. She rolled through the corridors of the diner, bringing Zayn and Niall to their table, a booth in the farthest corner of the restaurant. 

 

Zayn slid into the left side of the booth, and Niall sat opposite him, smiling genially at everything. The waitress handed them two menus and then scooted off again, blowing bubbles in her gum. Niall watched her go and then turned to flip through his menu, debating. 

"What's good from this place, Zaynie?" he asked, the affectionate term seeming to slip out without him even thinking about it. "I could eat a horse." 

"I don't think they've got that, but the fish and chips are good, I know that much." 

"Thought that was a British dish." Niall said, arching his eyebrows. 

"Niall, don't you know that Americans adopt everyone else's culture and call it their own?" 

 

Niall giggled again and Zayn was pretty sure he'd never get tired of hearing that sound. They sat there, in their own little world chatting and playing footsie beneath the table, until their waitress came back expecting their orders. They were so caught up in each other, neither of them had even decided on a meal, so Zayn ordered two simple burgers and hoped for the best. The waitress, a pretty redhaired thing with big green eyes, scribbled this down and then directed her ten-watt smile towards Niall. 

"Excellent, that'll be right out." she said, widening her smile more, if that was even possible. She skidded on her skates and then threw her hand out, gripping Niall's bicep tightly, feeling his muscle. At the action, Zayn felt his own smile weaken. 

"Sorry, darling! I'm so uncoordinated." she said cheerily, not sounding sorry at all. She patted Niall's hand for a few moments longer than necessary (in Zayn's opinion, the entire encounter had been unnecessary) and then glided away, seeming to regain perfect coordination on her bloody skates. Zayn's expression soured as she went, because really? _Really?_

 

"Nice waitress!" Niall said enthusiastically, seeming to not notice that she was being extremely nice to him in particular. Zayn tried to turn his scowl back into a smile, and he gave himself a quick shake. This night was for him and Niall. He wasn't about to let some grinning ginger destroy his mood, or Niall's. 

 

But oh _fuck_ , she was back again. 

 

"Sorry, forget to get your drink orders! What're you thirsty for?" 

 

_I know what you're thirsty for_ , Zayn thought to himself, squeezing his hands into fists on his lap. _My boyfriend. Back. The Fuck. Off._

 

Ginny fucking Weasley rolled away again (but not before sending another beam Niall's way) and Niall looked over at Zayn, seeming to notice his agitation. He looked at Zayn in concern, his eyebrows drawing in together, and goddammit, this was not how their dinner was meant to start. Zayn wasn't supposed to feel jealous and Niall wasn't supposed to get stressed. He'd only wanted to get some food and admire how pretty Niall looked tonight, for fuck's sake. 

 

"You alright, Zayn?" Niall asked, his voice worried. "What's the matter?" 

"Nothing." Zayn mumbled, and he could hear how petulant he sounded. But he couldn't do anything to stop it. She shouldn't be looking at Niall like that, shouldn't be batting her eyelashes like a Barbie doll and hoping he'd notice. If Zayn could physically show her that he was dating somebody else, he might be handling this better. He wanted to reach across the table and hold Niall's hands. Hell, he'd climb onto Niall's lap and make out with him right there if it'd get her to stop looking at Niall like that. 

"It's clearly not nothing, Zayn." Niall asked gently, bumping his foot against Zayn's underneath the table and hooking their ankles together. "You were fine literally five minutes ago, what's happened since then?" 

 

Zayn looked into Niall's eyes, saw how earnest his expression was. He really wanted to know, he wanted to help. He wanted to fix whatever had gone wrong, and Zayn had never had somebody want to fix any part of him before. Mostly because people usually looked at Zayn and thought no part of him needed fixing. 

 

"She's flirting with you." Zayn said at last, his cheeks reddening. "The waitress." 

Niall turned in his seat, looking down the path the waitress had gone. Then he twisted to look back at Zayn, his mouth falling open. 

"Is she really?" he asked in astonishment. "Really?" 

"There's no need to sound so pleased about it!" Zayn said hotly, feeling his blush spread from his cheeks to his ears. "Yes, she _really_ was, and it just- it just got me kinda upset, alright."

"Oh, Zayn, no-no, I'm not pleased at all!" Niall said hurriedly, trying to sooth Zayn's sore feelings. "I'm just surprised, is all. Surprised she tried." 

"Why?" Zayn asked, confused now. "You're fit, she's not blind. I'd appreciate her good taste if I wasn't so ready to rip her carrot-coloured head off." 

 

Now it was Niall's turn to blush. His cheeks went even pinker than normal and despite how possessive Zayn was feeling, he couldn't help but crack a smile at the sight. Niall cleared his throat and toyed with his silverware, unwrapping the napkin and fiddling with his fork. 

"I was surprised," Niall repeated, his voice low. "Because I would've thought that anyone with eyes could see how into _you_ I am." 

 

Zayn was so stunned by that comment, he couldn't speak. He stared at Niall, feeling his eyes bore into him. He almost wanted to cry, and he didn't know if they were happy or sad tears, but he didn't really care, either. 

"And I'm also really bad at figuring out when people are flirting with me." Niall continued, humor in his voice. "I'm not too experienced in that field, see. It took me weeks to figure out what you were at, because I thought that I just wanted it so badly, I imagined it was actually happening." 

"Niall, how long did you fancy me for?" Zayn burst out, unable to hold the words in. It suddenly seemed very important to know. Because if Zayn's suspicions were correct, then they'd wasted a helluva lot of time pandering around each other. 

 

"Since the park." Niall said with a giggle, covering his mouth with his hand. "I vividly remember thinking " _oh fuck, I just hit an actual Greek god with my football and now I'll have to sacrifice a lamb to Zeus as recompense_." 

Zayn burst out laughing, because Jesus bloody Christ, they really did waste three months dancing around one another when they could've been doing things like this the entire time. Niall laughed too, and he reached over the table, grabbing Zayn's hand and giving it a quick squeeze before withdrawing his again. 

"As if I'd even glance at some waitress when I've got you." Niall scoffed softly, resting his chin on his hand and looking at Zayn. "You're mental." 

 

When the waitress came back with their food, Zayn barely even saw her. He was lost in the way Niall's eyes shone like pieces of the sky that'd fallen to the earth. He was lost in the warmth of Niall's ankle pressed against his and lost in how he spoke, lilting and gentle and slow. He was lost in Niall's beauty, and he couldn't see. 

 

They sat there for what seemed like hours, talking about everything and nothing. Turns out, Niall wasn't really into burgers, so he just ate all his chips, and then, once all his were gone, stole Zayn's from off his plate. Zayn pushed it closer to him, vaguely feeling like the mutt in that movie about the two dogs who share spaghetti and meatballs. Niall grinned, winking at him from across the table and God, that definitely shouldn't have turned Zayn on as much as it did. A large part of him wanted to pounce across the table and ram their mouths together, but then a smaller, more rational part convinced him that it was a bad idea. 

 

Christ Almighty, chastity was hard. 

 

They ordered dessert to share, some Chocolate Avalanche Brownie Delux thing (Was America even real? Sometimes, Zayn really didn't think so.) The two boys passed a spoon back and forth, getting their table all messy. To be fair, the brownie was a bitch to eat. It was more like a slice of cake than anything else, oozing whipped cream and melting chocolate sauce. However, they were both growing guys who 'll eat basically anything, so they made quite a bit of headway. Eventually though, Niall pushed what was left towards Zayn, shaking his head and patting his stomach. 

 

"I'll explode if I eat more." he said seriously. 

"Sure, Mr. Dare me to eat this entire plate of cookies." Zayn said fondly, pushing the plate back towards him. "Go on, you know you wanna. Don't try and be polite and give it to me or anything." 

Niall sighed, but pulled the brownie in front of him, nimbly plucking the spoon from Zayn's fingers. 

"You're trying to fatten me up, Malik?" Niall asked with a cheeky smile, scooping some of the still melting brownie into his mouth. Chocolate dribbled down his chin and he licked it off with his tongue, batting his eyes at Zayn, and _fuck_ , Zayn hated him. (Except he really, really didn't.) 

"N-no." Zayn said unsteadily, taking a sip of his water. Niall put his thumb in his mouth and sucked off the chocolate there, the action half childish, half sexual. Did he realize what this was doing to Zayn? How downright unfair this was? Considering the mischievous glint in his blue eyes, Zayn was pretty sure he did. He obviously wasn't _that_ innocent. 

 

The waitress came back to their table with the cheque, and for that first time that evening, Zayn was glad to see her. While Niall was distracted by arousing Zayn via dessert, he lunged forward for the bill, making sure that Niall wouldn't grab it in a last-ditch attempt to pay for the meal. He threw a quick smile the redhead's way as she left and Niall tried to grab the cheque out of his hands. 

"Zayn." he said firmly. "C'mon." 

Zayn held it above Niall's reach and he pouted, looking at Zayn with big blue eyes. He still had a remnant of chocolate on his mouth, and this time, Zayn was endeared by it. 

"Please?" he wheedled. "Please let me pay? Pretty please?" 

 

Zayn shook his head and Niall deflated, dropping his head down on his arms and looking at Zayn, frowning slightly. He genuinely looked upset that Zayn wouldn't let him pay, and now Zayn felt shitty, because he was trying to be nice and chivalrous and stuff, but for some reason, it wasn't working. 

"Don't wanna be a burden to you." Niall mumbled, eyes downcast. "Like- don't waste your money on me-" 

"It's dinner, Ni." Zayn said gently. "And more importantly, it was a dinner that we spent together, yeah? But if you really want, the tip's all yours." 

Niall beamed, his face lighting up like the actual sun. He nodded eagerly, reaching for the bill so he could calculate the tip for the waitress, and Zayn let his hand linger against Niall's probably longer than it should as he handed it to him. Niall looked at it for a few moments and then looked back at Zayn in abject horror. 

"I'm shit at math." he said, as if just remembering this information. "What the fuck is the tip for this?" 

Zayn just laughed, took it back, and neither of them spoke about Niall paying again. Zayn hoped it'd stay that way. 

 

The ginger waitress rolled back on over, her legs long and lanky beneath her pinstriped skirt. She took the cheque from Zayn and then leaned across the table to wipe it down. As she went away again, she left a crumpled up napkin right in front of Niall, who didn't seem to notice it. The two boys stood up, putting on their coats. As they left, Zayn swiped up the napkin, holding it in his fist. Because he could see the phone number hastily scribbled on it. 

 

He felt somewhat guilty for doing this, because shouldn't Niall at least know that'd happened? But- but Zayn just didn't want him calling her. Yes, they were dating, but it hadn't been long and- he just really didn't want Niall to call her. 

 

They walked out of the diner in silence, Niall looking at Zayn every so often with a small smile on his face. They went out the door and turned a corner, heading back towards Zayn's bike. Niall grabbed onto Zayn's elbow, stopping him from moving. He looked up at him, seeming a tiny bit nervous. 

"Thank you." he said softly. "For dinner." 

"No problem, Niall." Zayn said, smiling easily. He couldn't count how many times he'd smiled because of Niall tonight. Niall reached for his hand, as if to hold it, and was surprised to see the napkin there. 

"What's this?" he asked curiously, tapping Zayn's closed fingers. Zayn unwillingly unclenched his fist and showed Niall the crushed napkin, who looked at even more confusion.

"A napkin?" he said. "Wow, Zayn, I didn't know you were that sentimental, keeping napkins from our first date-" 

"It's a phone number." Zayn burst out. "The redhead left it on our table for you, and I- I grabbed it before you saw it, in case-"

"In case what?" Niall asked, jokingly. "You needed to blow your nose or somethin'?" 

They were silent for a few moments, Zayn biting his lip in distress. He took a deep breath, looking at Niall, square on. 

"In case you called her." he said dejectedly. "I took it so you wouldn't take it and call her." 

 

And with that, Niall attacked Zayn. 

 

Okay, he didn't really "attack", per se. Niall grabbed him by the elbows, tugging Zayn behind the side of the building and pressing him against the stone wall. Gripping Zayn by the collar of his button down, he leaned up to him and rammed their mouths together messily, demanding entrance with his tongue. All Zayn could do was stand there and let him take control, following every movement Niall made. He slipped his hands inside Zayn's shirt but between his tank top, holding onto his torso. He bit down on Zayn's lip with insistence, to the point of pain, and Zayn felt dizzy, because this was certainly a side of Niall he'd never seen before.

 

It hit Zayn that they were proper snogging for the first time ever, and that Niall had been the one to initiate it, not Zayn himself. He figured he better show some emotion besides utter surprise, so he put his right hand on the back of Niall's neck, gently making him angle his head deeper. But Niall wasn't quite ready to give up control. He leaned in closer and pressed his mouth to Zayn's neck, biting down on his pulse and _shit_ , Zayn had done the exact same thing to him earlier. Clearly, he'd been studying the technique. (Zayn would even argue he was the better of the two, but maybe he's biased). Niall kissed the hollow of Zayn's throat, right where his neck met his collarbone in a V, and Zayn shut his eyes. 

"I'm going to die." Zayn mumbled, feeling positive that this was actually the end. Niall's mouth was too soft and his hands were too warm and he tasted too much like chocolate and Zayn was definitely going to kick the bucket soon.

"Zayn Malik." Niall said, against the skin of his throat. "I have wanted to do this with _you_ since the moment I met you. I've wanted to date _you_ since the moment I met you. In this current moment, nobody exists to me, except you. I didn't see her leave the napkin because I was too busy imagining doing this with you. You are literally the only person I want." 

 

Niall pulled back and Zayn barely held back a quiet groan because of the loss of contact. Niall beamed up at him, his eyes twinkling. 

"Now, would'ya please just let me, and stop worrying about some waitress?" 

Zayn nodded weakly and Niall moved back in towards him. Zayn was between Niall's body and the wall, and he found that he didn't care too much. Niall's small hands were on his hips, gently holding him in place, and Zayn wasn't entirely sure what he wanted, but he knew he wanted more. Thankfully, Niall kept kissing Zayn insistently, mumbling some words every so often. 

" 'M not too good at this yet, clearly." he said in between kisses. 

"I- I beg to differ." Zayn replied shakily, feeling his knees tremble as Niall's warmth breath ghosted along his neck. "A blo-bloody plus from me." 

 

Niall grinned against his neck, obviously proud, and Zayn wanted to scream _don't stop, for fuck's sake, I'm dying over here_. Zayn generally had more willpower than this. Usually, some meager neck kissing didn't make him ready to combust. Kissing was easy, Zayn liked kissing, he was good at kissing. But- he thought that the difference might be that in the past, making out was always the first step for Zayn. It was a prelude, a sneak peak of greater things to come. 

 

Knowing that this was all they're going to do tonight, that all Zayn would feel was this, somehow made it all the more electrifying. His senses were in overdrive and his skin felt too small for his body and every place where Niall's mouth touched him burned. Zayn cupped Niall's face between his hands, holding him still and just kissing him for a few moments. Niall hummed something into his mouth, and Zayn could feel him smile. He hummed it again, as if waiting for Zayn to understand, and then Zayn was smiling too. Because for once in his life, he recognized a song. 

 

_I don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your neck…_

 

Finally, Zayn pulled back, literally gasping for air. He could feel his pulse hammering in his temples, and Christ on crutches, what was this boy doing to him? He leaned his forehead against Niall's, holding his neck and rubbing his thumbs up and down his skin. His pulse was going even faster than Zayn's, if that was possible. They were both breathing shakily, their breath mingling together in the cold air. 

"No redheads." Niall whispered, grazing his thumb over Zayn's (now chapped, thanks to him) lips. "Just you." 

 

Zayn was so, so fucked. Niall leaned up and kissed him one last time, gently this time. He then reached into Zayn's jeans' pocket, pulling out his lighter. Zayn looked at him in confusion, eyebrows pulling together. 

"You've started smoking?" 

"Nah." Niall said, shaking his head. He flicked the lighter open, watching the flame dance in the wind. Zayn noticed that the blue of it matched Niall's eyes perfectly. "I'm burning the napkin." 

 

Zayn handed it to him, and Niall held it to the flame, setting the corner alight. They watched the black smolders spiral up into the air, a stark contrast to the heavy, white sky of winter. Niall glanced at Zayn, and then took his hand, for once not pulling his own away. He moved closer, leaning his head on Zayn's shoulder. 

"I've had a really great time tonight, Zayn." he said softly. "Wish it wasn't over-"

"It doesn't have to be." Zayn said, the words springing forth unbidden. "I was thinking that we could like- maybe just go for a walk? I know it's cold, but the town park isn’t far from here. You know the one, yeah? And there's some woods behind it that are really beautiful in the snow. Everything's all silver and nobody really ever goes there except me, because it's one of my favourite places to go and draw. I've never brought anyone else there with me, not even the boys, because I feel like they wouldn't understand it, kinda? But I think you might, so-" 

 

Zayn was rambling, he knew that, so he decided to shut up when he saw a stunned expression flit across Niall's face. Niall opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again, clearing his throat. 

"You're sure you want to bring me there? A place you've never shown anyone else?" he asked gently. "Your personal place?" 

Zayn nodded breathlessly, feeling a blush crawl up his cheeks as Niall looked at him wonderingly, smiling almost in bemusement. He held Zayn's hand between both of his own, looking at him earnestly. 

"I'd be honoured." Niall breathed. "So, so honoured." 

Zayn couldn't speak, so he turned and started to walk, tugging Niall eagerly along beside him. They soon fell into step with each other, alternating foot-falls on the snowy ground. Through his grip on Niall's hand, Zayn could feel his pulse beating against his thumb. He smiled when he realized that the rhythm of his heartbeat matched the rhythm of their feet. 

 

Okay, so maybe the park wasn’t right around the corner, like Zayn had said. They’d been walking through the snowy streets of their town for half an hour and still hadn’t arrived. Niall didn’t complain at all, but Zayn could see him shivering from the cold, so he put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into his chest, rubbing a hand up and down his left arm. 

“Thanks.” Niall said simply, his breath billowing out in the cold air. Zayn nodded and smiled in reply, guiding Niall down the off the sidewalk and onto the well-worn path, leading to the playground off to their left. 

 

Zayn went first, kicking the undergrowth away with his feet. Niall clung to his hand, nearly slipping on the slushy ground. The park was deserted, all the swings and slides covered in snow. The metal of the structures glinted in the moonlight, and they looked almost skeletal with no sunlight shining upon them. Everything for children was different in the night, Zayn supposed. Less innocent, more sinister. But Zayn would be lying if he said he didn’t like it better this way. It held a twisted sort of beauty, this nighttime park did. Convoluted and horrific and definitely more than it appeared. 

 

“Bit creepy, isn’t it?” Niall said as they approached the swingset, the seats weighed down with snow. “With no kids, and stuff.”

Zayn dumped the snow off the left swing, beckoning for Niall to sit down on it. Niall looked at it, unsure, and then perched himself on the swing, pushing off the ground to get some momentum. 

“None of that, I’ll be pushing you.” Zayn said, putting his hands on Niall’s back and giving him a shove. Niall chuckled, getting more comfortable on the swing. 

“Well, if you insist.” he said, giggling as Zayn pushed him even higher and kicking his legs like a little kid. 

“Trust me, I do.” Zayn said lowly in Niall’s ear as he swung back down again. His back bumped against Zayn’s chest, making them lose their synchronization. 

“Tut, Mr. Malik, we’re meant to be the picture of innocence here.” Niall chided. “Enjoying the purity of youth and all that shite.”

 

Zayn pushed him even higher, the base of the swing rattling. Niall’s grip on the plastic chains tightened, and then he spoke again, 

“My favourite part about swinging was always jumping off once I got high enough. Made me feel like I was flying.”

 

_You make me feel that way_. Zayn thought but didn’t say. He didn’t want Niall jumping off any swings, because with Zayn’s luck, he’d end up hurting himself, and that’d be real romantic. So he put his hands on Niall’s waist, gently dragging the swing backwards until it stopped. He dipped his head down and hooked his chin on Niall’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of Niall’s rosy cheek bled into his own. 

“Why’d you stop me?” Niall asked softly, reaching a hand up to cord through Zayn’s hair. Zayn leaned into the caress for a moment, shutting his eyes. 

“Didn’t want you falling.” he whispered in response, feeling his heart pound. 

“You can’t stop that, Zayn.” Niall said, turning his head so they were looking at each other. His blue eyes looked almost silver in the moonlight. 

“Isn’t going to stop me from trying.”

“No, no, I don’t believe it is.” 

 

Zayn had just leaned down to kiss him when Niall bolted up, out of his arms. He ran forward, throwing back a cheerful “Catch me!” over his shoulder. Zayn blinked after him for a few seconds, wondering what was happening. 

“What’re you at?” Zayn called across the park, to where Niall was hurriedly climbing the steps up towards the slide. He could hear the laugh in his own voice. 

“If you wanna kiss me, you gotta catch me.” Niall taunted from the top of the ladder, sticking his tongue out at Zayn. Zayn grinned, beginning to move towards him. 

“It’s on, Horan.” he said. “Even though I thought the whole ‘chasing’ part was done.”

 

Niall grinned at him from the top of the slide as Zayn started to climb the steps on all fours, the wetness of the snow soaking into the knees of his jeans. And Zayn might’ve forgotten one important thing about this chase. He was too big to really be allowed on these kinds of things, whereas Niall could easily scramble on and off them. 

 

This might be harder than Zayn originally thought. 

 

Zayn somehow made it to the top of the slide, his back bent over so much that he resembled Quasimodo from The Hunchback of bloody Notre Dame. Niall let him get within two feet of him and then went down the slide, landing on his feet and sprinting away again. Zayn cursed under his breath and then managed to contort his body enough that he went down the slide in one piece. Niall was now on the miniature trampoline, bouncing like fucking Tiger. 

“C’mon, you can do better than that.” Niall teased. “Catch me!”

“Is there a point to this?” Zayn asked as he ran towards the trampoline and Niall promptly hurtled off it, running somewhere else. 

“Yes.” he replied as he headed towards the monkey bars and scrambled up the ladder. Zayn didn’t follow him up on this structure, knowing that he’d finally catch him if he stayed put on the ground. (Plus, he figured he might actually have to catch Niall, in case he came tumbling down off the bars.)

 

Zayn stood underneath the monkey bars, watching Nall swing across with ease. He was stronger than Zayn had realized, and he was enjoying the view of Niall’s flexing muscles when he spoke again. 

“Petal, shut your eyes and count to ten for me.” he said cajolingly, staying still on the middle bar. 

“You’ll just run away, if I do.”

“I won’t.” Niall promised. “But, if you don’t believe me, I’ll continue on the rest of the monkey bars one handed-”

“No!” Zayn said as Niall’s right fingers started to loosen on the bar. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

 

He compliantly covered his eyes with the heels of his hands and counted slowly, his voice ringing out in the otherwise silent park. After he counted to ten and opened his eyes, he expected Niall to be gone, running away again. To his surprise, Niall was still there. To his even greater surprise, Niall was upside down. 

 

“Niall!” Zayn gasped, rushing towards him. “For fuck’s sake, get down, you’ll break your neck-”

“Will not, I’m good at this, did it all the time as a kid.” Niall said indignantly, his face turning pink as all his blood rushed to his head. The bars were high enough that Zayn's head and Niall's head were the same level. Zayn put his hands on his shoulders, gently supporting him. He glanced up at Niall’s spindly legs, worried that they’d snap around the monkey bar. They made eye contact and Niall beamed, his smile seeming even bigger than normal. 

"Caught you." Zayn said breathlessly, his chest tight. "Thought I dunno why you're upside down on a monkey bar-" 

"You don't get it?" Niall said in astonishment, his eyebrows going up (or was it now down?) into his hairline. "Really? You, of all people, don't get it?" 

"What is there to get?" Zayn asked, bewildered. "Besides you risking a stroke?" 

 

Niall laughed, his body shaking, and Zayn held onto him tighter, already planning on how he was going to catch his boyfriend for when he inevitably fell. Niall leaned in towards Zayn, their faces centimeters away from each other. He held onto Zayn's shoulders so he didn't swing away by accident, and Zayn was getting seriously alarmed by how red his face now was. 

"I'm Spiderman." Niall whispered. "Remember in one of the the movies, I can't remember which, the girl kissed him while he was upside down?" 

"Am I your Mary Jane, then?" Zayn said affectionately. Everytime Zayn thought he had Niall Horan figured out, he went and did something else. 

"You can be whoever you like, as long as you're mine." Niall said back, biting on his lip. Zayn stepped closer, grazing his fingers along Niall's cheek. He kissed him gently, trying not to move him around too much. Zayn held his face by the cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the soft skin, and Niall pressed his lips to the corner of Zayn's mouth, right where a pesky dimple formed. 

"I didn't know you liked Spiderman." Zayn said drolly, leaning their foreheads together. Niall burst into giggles again, pressing his hands to his mouth, and Zayn wouldn't breathe right until both his feet were back on solid ground. 

"I'm gonna be real honest here and say that I went home and rented all the Spiderman movies after I saw his poster hanging up in your room, back in October." 

 

Zayn said nothing, blinking at Niall in amazement. Did this boy exist, or was he just a fever dream of Zayn's?

"Even the god-awful third one? With Tobey Maquire dancing?" he asked, and Niall nodded firmly, shrugging his shoulders. 

"I really wanted you to like me." Niall said, hanging his arms down as if he was trying to touch the turf of the playground, and that was it for Zayn. He put his hands on Niall’s waist, carefully lifting him upward so he was now sitting on the bar. Then, once Zayn was positive he was secure up there, he offered Niall his hands to brace himself against as he jumped down. Niall took them, squeezing them tightly, and then jumped, landing on his feet. He staggered a bit as gravity recentered around him and Zayn held onto him tightly, wondering if he was supposed to be feeling dizzy too. 

 

“So, was that the point of our chase?” Zayn asked in amusement, brushing Niall’s hair out of his eyes. “To declare me your Mary Jane?”

“No,” Niall said, slowly shaking his head. “That was just a fun detour. C’mon!”

 

Niall sprinted away again, but this time, he grabbed Zayn’s hand and made him run beside him. They dashed across the field of the park, slipping and sliding on the snow. Zayn clung to Niall’s hand tightly as they ran, feeling a stitch in his chest forming. Maybe he shouldn’t smoke as much, it seemed to be affecting his lungs. 

“Where- are we- going?” Zayn wheezed, pressing a hand to his chest as they hurdled over a fallen log. Niall didn’t respond, plowing ahead further. All Zayn could do was bow his head and keep pace with him. 

And then, as abruptly as he’d started running, Niall stopped. Zayn kept going for a few seconds, and Niall’s grip on his hand jolted him to a stop. He took a few deep breaths, the cold air filling his lungs. Niall dropped his hand and paced back and forth in the grass, seeming to be checking for something. He glanced at an oak tree to the right and then beamed, turning back to look at Zayn, looking victorious. 

“Here!” he said jubilantly, clapping his hands together in glee. “I knew I’d find it!”

 

Zayn looked around, wondering what Niall could’ve possibly found. It just seemed like a patch of grass and a tree to him. Pretty similar, if not identical, to all the others in this park. Had Zayn risked coughing up a lung for some vegetation? Still, Niall seemed to find it important, so he should probably ask what he meant. 

“What’s here, Ni?” Zayn asked curiously, looking at his boyfriend fondly. He seemed to be bursting with excitement, his face the epitome of joy, and all of a sudden, whatever this was seemed just as important to Zayn. 

“I hit you with my football right here.” Niall said, suddenly shy as he looked at his feet, clasping his hands behind his back. “This is where we first met, Zayn.”

 

Zayn stopped breathing for a few seconds, just looking at Niall. His eyes darted to the oak tree, and suddenly, all the little details of that day came rushing back to him. How he and the boys had been sitting on a blanket from Louis’ car, the sound of kids playing in the park off to the left, the...the oak tree that had hung over their heads, shading them from the weak autumn sun. 

 

Zayn strode towards Niall, picking him up and swinging him around, because this boy seriously was something special, if he’d known how to find this exact spot. Niall squeaked and then clung to Zayn, burying his head into his neck as they spun. Zayn’s foot hit a tree root and they wobbled, Zayn fumbling to find his balance. The two boys made eye contact and then just laughed as they went down, Zayn’s back hitting the ground and knocking whatever wind he’d managed to regain right out of him again. 

 

Niall sat on top of Zayn, his face pressed into his chest, laughing like mad. He inched his way forward so he could look in Zayn’s eyes, smoothing his hair back from his face. 

“Are you alright?” he giggled, hands traveling down Zayn’s chest to make sure nothing was vitally wrong. Zayn groaned lowly, feeling himself blush in embarrassment. 

“That did not go as planned.” he said as Niall sat up, properly straddling Zayn’s waist now. He put his hands on Niall’s hips, hoping the position wouldn’t embarrass him and make him move. There was nothing sexual about this: Zayn just wanted to be close to him. 

“No, this is actually brilliant.” Niall said softly, reaching forward to lightly press his fingertips to Zayn’s mouth. He leaned forward until he was almost horizontally on top of Zayn, their mouths so, painfully close to touching. 

“Why is it brilliant?” Zayn whispered, and this time, his breath wasn’t gone because he fell. 

“Because the first I saw you, we were like this.. You looked like this, you looked beautiful, and I wanted to kiss you. And I couldn’t then. So, this is brilliant, because now every time you look beautiful, I can kiss you.”

“Do I look beautiful now?” Zayn asked, feeling nerves twist his stomach for some reason. This was new. He’d never done anything quite like this. No boy had ever called him beautiful and really meant it. They’d called him it to appeal to his vanity and lure him into their beds. And Zayn had gone willingly, because romance had never seemed important to him, it didn’t matter to him if they truly thought he was beautiful or not. 

 

But here was Niall, saying it openly, as if it wasn’t even a question. He was earnest, and he was genuine, and he was truthful. Niall wouldn’t lie to him. Zayn, at least to Niall Horan, was beautiful. Zayn was scared by how much that thought scared him. And by how much he liked it. 

 

“That’s the best part, Zayn.” Niall replied, his hands cold as he gently caressed Zayn’s face. He smoothed the collar of Zayn’s shirt down and then reached up to run his hands through his hair. He smiled at Zayn, and Zayn didn’t know what the best part was, but he didn’t think it could possibly be any better than this. 

 

“You always look beautiful.”

 

Niall’s hands were cold. His lips were warm. 

 

 

They laid there for at least two hours, tangled up in one another. Zayn didn’t know what time it was: he didn’t really care. It seemed like time had stopped altogether, and it was just them in this snow covered park. They kissed and they laughed and Niall pointed out the constellations in the sky to Zayn. 

“That’s Pegasus.” he said. “Ya know, Zeus’ winged horse? And that’s Draco, and before you ask, not Malfoy, unfortunately.”

Zayn chuckled, pressing his face into the crook of Niall’s neck. Niall excitedly tapped his shoulder, making him look back up at the starry sky. He pointed far off to the left, and Zayn saw a single star, burning bright. 

“And that one's Sirius.” he said with satisfaction. “He’s the brightest star in the sky.”

 

Zayn didn’t know when, but he had a funny feeling that someday, he’d want to get those very words tattooed to his body. Except they wouldn’t be about Sirius, they’d be about the boy lying next to him with hair like the sun, eyes like the sky, and a smile that outshone any star.

 

Zayn would’ve been content to stay laying there for the rest of his life, but eventually, Niall started stirring in his arms. Zayn felt his heart sink, because despite the late hour, he didn’t want to go home yet. He sat up, putting a hand on Niall’s back and rubbing his palm up and down his bony spine. 

“Ready to go?” he asked lowly, his voice groggy. Niall hurriedly shook his head no, looking at Zayn with big, sleepy eyes. 

“Not at all.” he said, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. “You still have to show me the woods, remember?”

Zayn didn’t respond right away, and then Niall spoke again, hesitant this time. 

“That is- only if you still want to.”

“Of course I want to Niall, but- but you might not like it. It’s just a couple trees and a creek and stuff. You might find it stupid.”

“Are you gonna be beside me?” Niall asked, taking his hand. 

“Yeah?” Zayn said as Niall stood and hauled him up, brushing Zayn off. 

“Then let’s go.”

 

They walked into the woods, holding hands. Zayn went first, so he could hold tree branches back for Niall. It was drier than Zayn had expected, which was a plus. All the trees were still weighed down with snow, so it looked brighter than it actually was. Everything was white and silver and shining. They approached the tiny creek, which had a thin layer of ice on it. Zayn could see fish swimming around through it. 

“Fancy a skate?” Niall joked and Zayn gripped his hand tighter so he didn’t bolt off and stand on the ice. It wouldn’t be the craziest thing he’d done tonight. They walked along the creek back, towards some huge rocks. Thankfully, there wasn’t any snow on them, so Zayn and Niall sat down. 

“It’s nice here.” Niall commented. “Peaceful. I can see why you like it for drawing. And also why you’ve never brought the others, especially Lou, here.”

“Yeah, he’d probably scare all the animals away with his mouth.” Zayn said. Niall smiled and looked up at the sky, covered by the high branches of trees. 

“Can’t see the stars here.”

“How do you know so much about astronomy, Niall?” Zayn asked, curious. He’d just randomly spouted all this space stuff, and while it had been really cool, Zayn wanted to know where he’d learned it all. 

 

Niall paused before he responded, pursing his lips together. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand and looked at his lap, considering his words. He gave Zayn's hand a squeeze and then opened his mouth to speak. 

“My mum taught me.” he said simply. “When I was a kid.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” Zayn said hurriedly, knowing they were heading towards dangerous territory. “Like- if it upsets you too much, please don’t feel like you have to tell me.”

“No.” Niall replied, shaking his head. “I think- I think I should talk about her. About my childhood, I guess. I haven’t mentioned anything about it in months. You barely know anything about my mum, and it’s selfish of me not to tell you.”

“No, it isn’t.” Zayn said automatically. “I know you have a- a rocky relationship with her, so if you want to keep those happy memories private, that is not selfish at all.”

 

Niall swallowed, gripping Zayn’s hand tightly. He looked up at him, and his smile seemed real, if smaller than normal. 

“There was this song, called “You Are My Sunshine." he started, voice soft and reminiscent. "My mum used to sing it to me as a lullabye. D'ya know it?" 

Zayn shook his head and Niall paused, tilting his head back. He looked like he was thinking, and Zayn stayed silent, hoping he'd sing but knowing he wouldn't push him to do it. But then Niall began to hum a tune, a soft lilting air, and Zayn sat up straighter, wanting to absorb every word. 

 

" _Sunshine, you are my sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray_." Niall sang, holding onto Zayn's hand so tightly that his nails dug crescent-moon shapes into his palm. He laid his head on Zayn's shoulder, his voice trembling slightly. 

" _You'll never know, dear, how much I love you_." Niall half-whispered and Zayn put his arm around him, rocking him slowly from side to side. " _Please don't take my sunshine away_." 

 

Niall's voice died, and he shut his eyes, swallowing quickly. 

"I don't remember the rest of the words." he said thickly, and Zayn could hear the clogged up tears in his voice, so he just held him tighter, pressing light kisses to his temples. "But anyway. That was my lullabye for years. My mum first sang it to me when I was four, and I loved it so much that she pretended she'd written the song just for me. I didn't find out that she lied about that until I heard the song on the _Penelope_ movie soundtrack when I was nine. And I was so angry." 

 

Here, Niall laughed a bit, but Zayn didn't release his tight grip on him, despite his sadness ebbing away. 

"I ran to her, screaming bloody murder that this movie had stolen her song and that we needed to get a lawyer from America to sue James Mcavoy, who sang the song in the film. So, she explained the situation, that she hadn't written the song, and I started bawling my feckin' eyes out. To make it up to me, she started telling me all about the sun, like how it was actually a star and stuff. And I kinda get obsessed with space for awhile." 

 

Niall's fingers traced patterns on the inside of Zayn's wrist, toying with his pulse point. Taking a deep breath, he kept talking. 

"So, astronomy became our thing, I suppose. We went to the library and checked out all the books on space we could find. And we'd go out into my backyard and look at them all, on any clear night that Ireland got. Because Mullingar is a rural town, there wasn't a lot of light pollution, so when the sky wasn't cloudy, we could see everything." 

 

"It was so gorgeous, Zayn. I could see the constellations so easily with her. To me as a kid, I thought all these stars were actually people, and I imagined them all up there, talking and being friends and having "star parties", as I called them. Kinda like that painting, by Van Gogh I think? Starry Night?They danced around for me, nebulas in the air, and there didn't even have to be music for me to see them move. Because she was right beside me and she seemed magical enough to shift constellations." 

 

Niall stopped talking, and he pressed his face into Zayn's neck, shaking slightly. His eyes were wet against his skin. 

"And since she's been gone, I haven't seen the stars dance." Niall whispered sadly. "I don't think I've seen the stars at all." 

 

Zayn cuddled him closely, laying his cheek on the top of Niall's head. Niall pulled back and sniffed, rubbing at his wet cheeks. He mustered a smile, and then said, 

"Well, that's not really true." 

"What do you mean?" Zayn asked, reaching his hands towards Niall's cheeks and gently brushing away the remaining tears with his fingertips. 

"I saw them tonight. With you. You made the stars dance for me." 

"Niall, I think you do that all by yourself." Zayn whispered and Niall shook his head, standing up and easing Zayn up beside him. He took both Zayn's hands, swinging them back and forth, and he rested his head on Zayn's collarbone, his breath warm against Zayn's skin. Zayn wrapped his arms around him, and he whispered. 

"Thank you for telling me." 

"Thank you for asking. No one ever asks." 

 

Zayn didn't know what time of night or day it was when he finally dropped Niall home again. He could hear a few birds chirping merrily, but thankfully, the sun had yet to creep over the horizon, so at least it wasn't morning. Niall almost fell asleep against Zayn's back as he slowly drove them home on the motorcycle, which showed how exhausted he was. 

 

Zayn pulled over to the curb outside Niall's house, twisting around and gently shaking him out of his stupor. Niall blinked a few times, shaking his head blearily before he smiled slightly at Zayn. They got off the motorcycle, and Zayn walked Niall to his front door. Niall leaned against the doorframe and just looked up at him, in what appeared to be wonder. 

"I hope you had a good time on our first date ever." Zayn said bashfully, feeling his cheeks color. Niall rested his head against the wood of the door, and Zayn waited for what he was going to say in response. 

"Zayn, remember when I was on the swing and you said you didn't want me falling?" he asked conversationally, as if it wasn't fuck-knows o'clock at night. 

"Yes." Zay said, unsure where he was going with this, but not wanting to stop him. Niall stepped forward, standing up straighter so he could look into Zayn's eyes. 

"I think that'd be useless." he said quietly, his warm breath ghosting across Zayn's face and giving him goosebumps. 

"Why?" Zayn asked, and really, Niall Horan had really reduced him to one-syllable answers. 

"Because I've already fallen." Niall whispered. 

 

Niall leaned in and pressed his soft lips against Zayn's cheek quickly, lingering for only a moment. He breathed a tender "thank you" against his skin, and then Niall was gone, running into his house, as if trying to stop himself from saying more. The door shut with a click and then Zayn was alone. 

He stood there, frozen in place, literally unable to move. He blinked at his feet, grinning like an idiot and feeling warmth spread through his body from head to toe. It was like sunlight was diffusing through his skin, seeping in through his pores and making Zayn melt, from the inside out. Eventually, he found the motivation to move and drive to his own home. And the entire ride there, Zayn hummed "You Are My Sunshine" under his breath, thinking about stars and parks and how utterly wonderful it felt to be falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I think I finally got my groove back XD Let me know what you thought :3


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this took forever: I've been so, so busy. It's prom season, and I also have AP testing coming up, so if I don't post for awhile, that's probably what I'm doing instead XD Tell me what you think about this chapter :3

In the first week of February, Liam called them all for an "Emergency Squad Meeting” in the town library.

 

You'd think this would be for some vitally important purpose. Zayn went there feeling extremely apprehensive of what bombshell Liam was about to drop on all of them, because he usually doesn’t make a big deal about, well, anything. Zayn didn’t want there to be any disasters right now. Life was good for Zayn at the moment. School wasn’t extraordinarily difficult, he was drawing a lot (well, really just little scribbles and doodles. Mostly of Niall, if he’s honest.) And he had his boy. They’d been dating for three weeks already, and okay, Zayn knew it wasn’t that long, but it still felt incredibly important. 

 

He just made Zayn so fucking happy. He now understood why artists have muses, because if all he ever created was Niall Horan, he’d be satisfied, if not ecstatic, about it. Zayn found himself singing songs Niall taught him in the shower. He’d go through his phone and reread all the texts from Niall, laughing harder at his corny jokes the second time around. Zayn didn’t have any other relationships to compare this to, but he really thought that things for Niall and he were going well. 

 

So, Zayn really hoped there wasn’t a crisis coming their way. Mainly because Liam was Liam and honestly, nothing bad should ever happen that kid. He’s too good for shitty karma, right? Zayn went to the library on the cloudy Saturday, trying to think of what his problem could be. Was Liam moving somewhere? Was he ill? Had he gotten Sophia pregnant?

 

Zayn imagined the five of them freaking the fuck out in a delivery room and hurriedly shook the vision away as he walked up the cracked stone steps of the library. He came to the conclusion that he would most certainly not be changing any diapers as he walked to a row of tables in the middle of the old building. He scraped his feet on the matt by the door and saw his friends, lounging around one of the wooden tables, surrounded by textbooks. Niall was already there, head bent studiously over a book, and Zayn felt his heart give a little jump at the sight. 

 

Fuck, when did he become such a sap?

 

Zayn treaded quietly towards the table, feet muffled by the carpet. He reached the table and cleared his throat, making it known that he was there. 

“Hi guys.” he said as he pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table to Niall. Niall’s head jerked up automatically and then he beamed, eyes lighting up. Niall bit his bottom lip and then just looked at him, expression soft. Zayn felt his own features forming the same look, and yeah, yeah he thought things were going really well. 

“Hi.” Niall said simply. 

“Hi.” Zayn responded, feeling his cheeks redden. Niall eagerly pulled the chair next to him out, patting the seat hopefully, and Zayn moved to sit next to him. He leaned his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands, studying his other three friends. 

 

Harry and Louis were both reading books, which surprised Zayn. But what surprised him more was that they weren’t sitting together. Louis was down the far end of the table, seeming to be caught up in the book he was currently poring over. Harry was the opposite head of the table, but he didn’t seem as diverted by the literature in front of him. He stole sidelong glances at Louis every so often, looking confused. Hurt shone in his limpid green eyes, and he ran a hand through his curls distractedly, twisting them around his fingers. But he still managed to look at Zayn and give him a small smile, which was more than Louis managed. He didn’t look up from his book once. 

 

So, Zayn thought that maybe Liam wasn’t the only one having a crisis today. 

 

“What’s up, mates?” Zayn asked, his voice hushed in the library. Liam looked at him for the first time, panic in his brown eyes. His face was pinched and worried, eyebrows drawn together in a way that Zayn didn’t like but recognized. He gestured frantically at the massive textbook in front of him, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“Chemistry, Zayn.” he said urgently. “Chemistry is what’s up.” 

 

Relief swept through Zayn, and he exhaled, shutting his eyes. Liam wasn't moving, he wasn't dying, Zayn wasn't going to be an uncle in a couple months. He looked at the book in Liam's hands and saw that it was indeed, a Chemistry book. Liam had various papers strewn in front of him, his neat handwriting etched across them all. 

"That's all?" Zayn said somewhat shakily, hearing the laugh in his voice. "Jeez, Li, I thought it was something bad." 

"Something bad?" Liam sputtered, raising his eyebrows. "Chemistry isn't just bad, Zayn. It's abysmal. I know _nothing_. What the fuck is dimensional analysis? Or a mole? Why am I an idiot?" 

 

Zayn could've laughed at that, because really, if any of them had a hope of understanding this science, it was Liam. But then he took in Liam's frantic expression, and saw how tightly he was clenching the book in his hands, his knuckles turning white. Maybe this wasn't just about Chemistry class. Maybe it was all of Liam's other stresses and anxieties about life, manifesting themselves in worry over a school subject. Also, Liam was a very good student, probably better than the rest of them combined, and he wasn't used to not being good at things. Usually, everything came easy to Liam in life, and if it didn't, he ran himself into the ground, working until it did. It was plausible enough to think he was having a nervous breakdown over some stupid elements and electrons and shit. So, Zayn reached over to Liam, gently but firmly removing his grip from the book and sliding it over to himself. 

“Hey, it’s alright, Liam.” he said carefully. “I’ll quiz you on some stuff, yeah? Terms, like. I’m not too good at the concepts myself, but we can give those a shot together too. And we don’t necessarily have to understand all of it today, and I’m sure Ms. Tissons would be more than happy to help us with anything we don’t get.”

“Yeah, she’s absolutely lovely!” Niall piped up, smiling earnestly in Liam’s direction. He was trying to calm him as much as Zayn was, and it struck Zayn that Niall knew their friends as well as they all knew each other. He’d learned to read their moods in a matter of months, whereas it’d taken the four of them at least a year to really figure one another out. 

 

“Literally, my favourite teacher.” Niall continued. "She was the first faculty member I met at school, and she was in an absolute heap because she hadn’t gotten me a guide for my first day. So technically, Zayn, she was the reason we officially met.”

“I’ll have to thank her then.” Zayn said, looking at Niall and smiling fondly, because it just so happened that Niall’s favourite teacher was endeared by Zayn’s. Niall grinned back, eyes scrunching at the corners. But the moment was marred by something Zayn wished he hadn’t noticed. Off to their left, Zayn heard Louis give a tiny groan, resting his head on the top of his book, clearly annoyed by what they’d just said.

 

Zayn felt irritated for a few moments, because seriously, what the actual fuck? Louis had literally been the biggest supporter of Zayn and Niall. Had he forgotten Operation Leprechaun or something? Was the job done now and any happiness the two of them experienced was pointless? But then Zayn clenched his teeth and pushed the feeling away. Louis wanted to be a dickhead today, fine. Zayn wasn’t going to let it ruin his good mood or Niall’s. Plus, he had a stressed out Liam and an upset Harry to handle, so right now was not Louis Time. First Liam, then Harry, and then maybe Louis, if he decided to pull his head out of his goddamn ass. 

 

“Okay,” Zayn began, pulling the book closer to him and narrowing his eyes to read the words. Maybe he should start wearing his glasses again. “Stoichiometry, let’s start there…”

 

The five of them sat in utter silence, the only sound being Zayn’s voice as he asked Liam questions and Liam’s answers, hesitant at first but then growing stronger as he realized that he actually did know what he was talking about. Next to him, Niall continued reading his book, and Zayn peeked a glance at the cover in between questions. _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone_. Funny choice, considering Zayn had told him last night they had to have a marathon, since Niall had never seen any of the films. (Zayn had almost died from horror at the very thought.) 

 

Zayn fought a smile and then nudged Niall’s leg with his knee, getting his attention. 

“Good book.” he mumbled as Liam wrote something down diligently on a spare piece of paper, and Niall bit his lip, flushing slightly. He smoothed down the cover with his hand, playing with the dog-eared edges of the pages. 

“Well, I’ve heard the books are always better than the films, so.” Niall said with a shrug of his shoulders, trying to be nonchalant. Zayn give into his smile and Niall grinned foolishly, laughing at himself. 

“To be honest with ya, I don’t really know what they’re about. Who’s this Mouldemort guy?”

“You’re an insult to your generation, Niall Horan.”

“Shut up.” Niall said affectionately, reaching down to pat Zayn’s knee as Zayn turned his attention back to the Chemistry book. 

 

However, his attention was soon distracted again, simply because Niall kept his hand on Zayn’s knee, resting his Harry Potter book on the edge of the table and turning the pages with one hand. He rubbed small circles on Zayn’s kneecap with his fingertips, setting an easy rhythm. Zayn blinked and looked down at his lap, wondering what was going on. Niall pointedly didn’t look at him, focusing on the words in front of him, but Zayn had a feeling he knew how important this was. They were in public, a place where anyone could walk by and see them. And Niall was displaying his affection for Zayn.

 

Zayn gulped past the sudden lump in his throat and kept on reading review questions to Liam, trying to hide how weak his voice felt. 

 

A minute or two later, Niall’s hand moved further up Zayn’s leg, resting on his thigh and warming his skin through his jeans. Zayn let out a shaky breath, hoping nobody else noticed. He wasn’t a trembling virgin, for fuck’s sake. Niall was just holding onto his leg, something fairly normal for couples to do. It’s not like they were going at it between the dusty library shelves. But this, whatever Niall was doing right now, this felt intimate in a way he’d never experienced before. Maybe just because it was Niall. He made everything feel new to Zayn. 

 

Maybe Niall noticed Zayn’s dilemma, because he removed his hand soon after. Zayn let out an inaudible sigh of relief, resting his own hand on his leg, trying to forget the warmth of Niall’s. But two seconds later, Niall had grabbed Zayn’s hand with his own, holding it loosely. He traced patterns across Zayn’s limp wrist with his fingers, thumbing over his veins and playing with his pulse point. His nails were blunt, and they felt too delicate against Zayn’s skin. He sorta wanted to be ripped apart. 

 

_What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck._

 

Thankfully, Niall let him go again, and Zayn scooted closer towards the table, the edge digging into his abdomen. He rested both his arms on the table and hefted the book up, making sure Niall wouldn't try and give him a hard-on by touching his elbow or something. He leaned forward so his shoulders were hunched over, trying to make himself smaller. 

 

Zayn could practically _feel_ Niall smiling behind him, and a few seconds later, he found out why. The back of his t-shirt had ridden up when he moved forward, so now his back was exposed. Zayn wanted to let out a string of curses as Niall rested his hand on the middle of his back, thankfully against his shirt and not his skin. But because there is no fucking relief apparently, Niall soon moved again, putting his hand directly on the skin of Zayn’s back. He danced his fingers against his spine like he was playing piano, getting reactions out of Zayn like he plucked notes from the strings. 

 

“Are you alright, Zayn?” Liam asked worriedly, drawing Zayn out of his head, like he was dousing him with a bucket of cold water. “You’ve repeated the same word five times.” 

“Yeah, I’m good!” Zayn said, his voice too high. “Good, good, good. How’re you feeling about this chemistry, huh? Good?”

“Yeah, much better than before.” Liam said warily, tilting his head to look at Zayn more closely. “You wanna take a break? We’ve been at this for awhile now, and I really appreciate it. Why don’t you go get some water or something?”

“Yeah, water would be good. I’ll-uh- I’m gonna go. To the water fountain.” Zayn mumbled as he stood up and rushed out of there, feeling a hot flush cover his entire body. He felt himself get warmer still as he heard Niall’s quiet footsteps behind him. 

 

Zayn was bowed over the water fountain, drinking the shitty library water like he’d been lost in the Sahara Desert for a week, when he felt Niall come up behind him, wrapping his skinny arms around his waist. Niall rested his cheek against the middle of Zayn’s back, and Zayn could feel him breathing steadily. 

“You.” Zayn half groaned as he leaned up, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand. “You’re gonna be the bloody end of me today.” 

“Can’t help it.” Niall whispered against his neck, standing up straighter so he could reach. “Just wanna be close to you.” 

“Was Harry Potter not distracting enough for you? J.K Rowling should be insulted.” Zayn asked sarcastically as he turned in Niall’s arms, so they were now looking at each other. He swiftly looked around them, making sure nobody could see their embrace. Niall might’ve forgotten his inhibitions for today, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t remember them tomorrow, and Zayn didn’t want tomorrow to be too late. 

“You distract me.” Niall responded. “I’m driven to distraction whenever you’re nearby. I was quite happily reading about our favourite boy wizard knocking out a troll when you showed up, and I’ve been desperate to get my hands on you since then.” 

"We're in the middle of the goddamn library." Zayn said unsteadily, ducking to evade Niall's mouth, searching for his own. (He never dreamed there'd be a time where he was avoiding Niall's kisses, but here they were.) "There's probably Bibles in here or something." 

"You're not Catholic." Niall replied, reaching for Zayn by the loopholes of his jeans and pulling him back closer. Their waists bumped together and Zayn held back a groan, because he'd literally just been teased for thirty minutes, and Niall grinned wickedly, eyes lighting up with mischief. 

"You are!" Zayn said incredulously. 

"Come on, there's an upstairs area in this library where no one goes. It's like....classical novels, and who reads them? Nobody'll find us there, and if you don't kiss me within the next three minutes, I'll explode." 

 

Niall left, and Zayn followed, wondering if this was a good idea, and also wondering why he didn't care if it wasn't. 

 

They reached the Classical section with no trouble, going up three flights of stairs to get to the highest level of the library. True to Niall's word, it was deserted, not a person in sight. Weak winter sunlight came through the windows along the walls, hitting the novels in the shelves and illuminating the dust. Niall turned a corner into a bookshelf, leading him down towards the left wall of the building. He reached up and tapping along the spines of the books as he moved, and Zayn copied the movement, trying to hit the exact places Niall's fingers had been. 

 

Suddenly, Niall turned on his heels, halting Zayn with a hand on his chest and turning them to the right. He was in between Zayn's body and the bookshelves, looking paler than normal in the dim light cast from the lamps above their heads. His eyes still shone though. Zayn hoped they never stopped. Zayn reached over and caressed Niall's cheek with his knuckles, and Niall leaned into it, shutting his eyes. Zayn's hand moved further down, holding loosely onto Niall's neck, and he could hear his breathing pick up. He pressed them as a unit closer to the bookshelf, Niall's smaller body being framed by his own. He dipped his head so their foreheads touched, and finally, Zayn spoke. 

 

"You like this, don't you." he whispered in amusement, realizing what Niall's game was. "Teasing me within an inch of my life and then doing nothing else about it." 

The laddish teasing brought color to Niall's cheeks and his eyes flew open. He stared at Zayn, blinking and shaking his head a couple times, like he was trying to clear it. Zayn saw his dilated eyes flick to Zayn's lips, and he fought a laugh, because maybe now he could get Niall back for earlier. 

"Has it been three minutes yet, Ni?" he asked conversationally as Niall squirmed, trying to connect their mouths. Zayn gently held him against the shelves by the elbows, keeping him firmly in place. 

"Yes, Jesus, _fuck_ , yes." Niall said, somewhat desperately, his hands scrabbling for any part of Zayn he could reach. 

"I don't think it has been, honestly." 

"Zayn." Niall whined with big eyes, pouting slightly. "Kiss me." 

"That's not very polite, Niall." Zayn admonished, grinning as he tapped his boyfriend on the nose with his index finger. Niall was now staring at Zayn's lips with no restrain, his eyes heavy-lidded. Zayn leaned in closer, until their mouths were centimeters away from touching, and then he stopped, causing Niall to let out a little cry of frustration. The sound went right to Zayn's groin, and yeah, today had been difficult for Zayn so far. Zayn reached up and cupped Niall's cheeks again, rubbing his thumbs over them and making him part his lips. 

"You absolute shit." Niall burst out, trying to keep his voice quiet. "I'm dying over here, waiting for you, and you're so calm and bloody blasé, and _mmmphh_!" 

 

What Zayn did next was essentially ram his tongue down Niall's throat, because he was tired of waiting too. It shut him up quite nicely, anyway. Niall stiffened in shock at first and then wound his arms around Zayn's neck, responding as enthusiastically as Zayn hoped he would. Zayn gripped him by the elbows and practically raised him up in the air, wanting their bodies closer. Electricity coursed between them like current through a wire, crackling and sparking. Niall jumped and somehow wrapped his spindly legs around Zayn's waist, clinging onto his neck like a koala. Zayn hurriedly cupped his hands so Niall was basically sitting on his forearms, and amazingly, they were still kissing. What an interesting turn of events. 

 

Zayn staggered forward blindly, stumbling around for a chair. He peeked an eye open and saw through Niall's hair that a green velvet armchair was to their left. Zayn strode forward with Niall in his arms and then sat down, balancing Niall on his lap. Niall's eyes flew open and he stared around himself in shock, wondering how he'd ended up where he was. Zayn chuckled at his gobsmacked expression and decided to distract him by peppering kisses along his collarbone. 

"Oh god oh god oh god." Niall chanted breathlessly, beginning to rock against Zayn's waist, like he couldn't stop himself. He hesitantly touched the hem of Zayn's t-shirt, and Zayn reached down and took his hands, guiding them under his top and resting them across his abdomen. They were cold, as usual with Niall, and Zayn jolted slightly at the feeling, gasping quietly against Niall's neck. 

"Sorry, sorry!" Niall sputtered, and Zayn could feel him blushing. "I can't believe this is happening, oh my god, I'm gonna explode." 

"Thought you- were gonna explode- if this didn't happen." Zayn teased through kisses. "Thought you wanted- your hands on me." 

"I bloody _do_ , I just didn't expect you to take me up on it!" 

"What else would you expect?" Zayn said with a light laugh and Niall shook his head, giving a shrug of his shoulders. He held onto Zayn's torso with reverence, smoothing his fingers up and down his ribs slowly, like he was trying to count each one. Niall put the palm of his hand on Zayn's left pectoral muscle (thank you Anatomy class), right where his heart was. 

"Beating kinda hard and kinda fast, innit?" Niall said, sounding a bit worried. "You alright?" 

"I have a hot boy sitting on my lap, cut me some slack." Zayn said with a smile and Niall blushed, ducking his head so he avoided Zayn's eyes. 

" M' not hot." Niall mumbled, biting his lip. "You're the goddamn sun, in levels of hotness. I'm not." 

 

Zayn burst out laughing, because if Niall only knew how many times Zayn had compared him to the sun. Niall looked at him in confusion, his eyebrows wrinkling together, and his hands on Zayn's abs stalled. 

"What?" he said self-consciously, reddening by the second. "It's how I feel about you. You make me- uncomfortable." 

"I turn you on." Zayn said straightforwardly and Niall giggled nervously, looking at Zayn with some terror in his eyes. "For lack of a politer phrase, I turn you on." 

Niall nodded, his chin tucked down against his chest so he didn't meet Zayn's eyes. He seemed ashamed, and that just wouldn't do. Zayn put two fingers underneath Niall’s chin, raising his head. He smiled gently at his boyfriend, hoping he’d return it. 

“You turn me on too, ya know.” he said softly. “It’s a two-way thing.” 

 

Niall leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Zayn’s, softly this time. Cording both hands through Zayn’s dark mop, he held on loosely. He scratched circles against Zayn’s scalp in a way he must’ve figured out that Zayn loved and Zayn pressed closer, trying to breathe the very air out of Niall’s lungs. He felt Niall wobble on his lap because, at this point, he was balancing precariously on his knees. Zayn reached down, putting one hand across his thighs and hooking the other onto the waistband of his jeans to keep him steady. 

 

And then Niall was scrambling away, hurriedly breaking off the kiss with Zayn and flinging himself out of the armchair. He walked a few paces away, clenching his hands into tight fists by his sides. Zayn looked at him in confusion for a few seconds, feeling strangely lost now that Niall’s warm body weight was off him. Niall dragged both hands down his face, exhaling a long breath, and Zayn could see his legs shaking from where he sat. 

 

Oh. 

 

Zayn wasn’t a trembling virgin. But Niall was. 

 

He probably thought Zayn was trying to take off his pants in the middle of the bloody library. 

 

_Shit._

 

“Niall, I’m sorry-” Zayn started, wanting to get up and comfort him, but knowing that now was definitely a time that Niall needed his personal space. “I didn’t think about- well, about what exactly I was doing. I was just trying to make sure you didn’t fall over, I wasn’t like- you know. Trying to do anything you’d never done or-or didn’t want to do.”

“Yeah, I know.” Niall said, his voice shaky. “I- uh- I just didn’t expect it. Wasn’t prepared, sorta. I thought- well, you know what I thought, and I just- got really scared.” 

 

Niall’s voice died off and he looked down at his feet, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor and wrapping his arms around his stomach uncomfortably. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, his diaphragm moving upward with the motion. He looked at Zayn again, the veins standing out in his neck from agitation. 

“You’ve had sex, and I haven’t.” Niall said simply, firmly ignoring the flush that spread across his cheeks. “I respect your privacy, I’m never gonna ask who with or-or how often or what it was like or anything. And I know you’d never push me into anything I don’t want or couldn’t handle. And I know that what just happened was an innocent mistake, there was nothing implied by it. But I guess- I guess that I just get worried you’ll get bored of me? Physically, I mean? As you can see, I move slowly, and I’m bad at this, and it’ll probably take me a long time to even contemplate something like that.”

 

Niall brought his hand to his mouth and bit down on his thumbnail. Zayn didn’t think he’d ever stop wishing that he wouldn’t do that. Zayn opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again, because he truly didn’t know how to reply. Niall cleared his throat and looked up again, trying to smile. 

“I guess I just feel a bit of an idiot. Inexperienced, kinda thing-”

“Come here.” Zayn interrupted, holding out a hand to Niall. The blonde boy stepped forward nervously, slipping his fingers into the spaces between Zayn’s. Zayn patted his lap with the other hand and Niall gingerly perched himself on his knees, keeping half his weight on his own heels. But that wasn’t quite cutting it for Zayn, so he wrapped an careful arm around Niall’s torso, pulling him back against his chest. He hooked his chin over Niall’s shoulder, holding both his hands with his own. 

“I lost my virginity when I was sixteen.” he started quietly, hoping Niall wouldn’t bolt out of his arms again and listen to what he had to say. 

“Zayn, you don’t have to tell me- Niall began. 

“I know, but I want to.” Zayn responded. “So, yeah. I was sixteen, at a party. I’d recently broken up with Perrie and had come out as gay, so it was a rough couple weeks for me, socially. The boys were great, of course, but there was definitely the usual bullshit, you know? Anyway, this older guy came up to me, flirted a bit. He was around nineteen, so not like...crazy old, but older than I should’ve been hanging out with. But yeah, I thought I was the absolute shit, this hot uni guy drooling all over me. Quite literally, he was a very wet kisser.”

 

Niall chuckled and then clapped a hand over his mouth. He twisted to look at Zayn, eyes round with horror. 

“I’m sorry!” he gasped. “I shouldn’t have laughed, this doesn’t seem like a funny story, oh my god-”

“No, no, go ahead!” Zayn said with a shake of his head and a smile. “Looking back, it is funny. So, me and this guy went to a bedroom somewhere, and one thing led to another, and well- I wasn’t a virgin. And if I’m honest, the entire thing was pretty anticlimactic. Maybe he was bad in bed, or maybe I was, but I like to think it was him. I guess that losing it didn’t seem like a hugely important thing to me, and when it happened, it seriously wasn’t. I didn’t love that bloke, he certainly didn’t love me, and it wasn’t like it is in the movies.”

“So, what you’re saying is that losing your virginity doesn’t really matter?” Niall said, sounding befuddled. “I’m kinda confused...is that it?”

“No.” Zayn said, shaking his head so his cheek bumped against Niall’s. “What I’m saying is that it is important. Or at least, it should be. People should want romance and candles and rosepetals on the mattress and lingering kisses and whatever the fuck else they need to make it feel magical. They shouldn’t settle for an attractive stranger with kind lies, like I did. I think that for the first time, they should settle for nothing but- but love, really.”

 

Here, Zayn paused, considering his next words carefully. When he decided to say what he wanted to, he took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and went for it. 

“I wish I’d waited for that, for someone special. And I really, really hope you do.”

"Even- even if it's not with you?" Niall asked, his voice almost inaudible as he took Zayn's left hand and played with his fingers absent-mindedly. 

"Especially if it's not with me." Zayn breathed back, pressing a light kiss to Niall's cheek. He shifted in his seat so Niall stood up and then he joined him, still holding onto his hand. Niall gave a tiny smile and Zayn squeezed his hand tightly, swinging their arms back and forth. 

"We should probably get back. Liam might've had a canary by now." 

 

Niall nodded and the two of them walked back down the way they'd come, along the bookshelves. Zayn paused by the corner, straightening Niall's rumpled collar and trying to make his own hair somewhat presentable from when Niall had tangled it. He ruefully dragging his fingertips across Niall's raw and swollen lips, knowing there wasn't a chance in hell of hiding them. 

"People are gonna start thinking you're a right ladies man." Zayn said affectionately. “Always lookin’ recently kissed.”

“Girls don’t have stubble.” Niall countered, arching his eyebrows. “I’d argue that I’m the opposite of a ladies man. And, might I add, you’re no better. I should start carrying around lip balm, Mr. Chapped Lips.” 

Zayn snickered, holding a hand over his mouth and feeling that they actually were roughened. Niall winked at him and then stepped out past the safety of the bookshelf, looking around. His hand stayed back though, clinging onto Zayn’s. 

 

And then suddenly, they both jumped a foot in the air as a harsh _bang!_ echoed throughout this floor of the library, as the stairs door was flung open and then promptly slammed shut. Zayn nearly wrenched Niall’s arm out of its socket as he tugged him back behind the shelf, hidden from whoever was now here. Niall slammed into his side, staggering a bit, and Zayn steadied him, panic coursing through his body, because no, they couldn’t be found here, of all places. And especially looking how they did, roughed up, needy, and smelling of each other. 

 

Zayn slowly moved the books in front of him aside, pressing his eyes into the opening it left. Niall did the same on the slat of shelving beneath his, observing whoever had arrived. It took a few seconds for Zayn’s vision to adjust to the narrowed space, but when it did, his breath caught in his throat. Because it was Louis standing in the middle of the room, pacing agitatedly across the open floor. 

 

Their friend bolted back and forth across the room, tearing at his hair. He paused by the window, clenching his hands into fists at his sides. Beside him, Niall peeked up at Zayn, with blatant worry in his eyes. 

‘What’s wrong?” he mouthed silently, and Zayn shrugged his shoulders, turning to look back at Louis. He was now looking directly out the window, hunched in on himself with his back facing the two boys. 

“Don’t be a dick, don’t be a dick, don’t be a dick.” he muttered to himself, rapping his fingers against the windowsill. “He’s following you right now, he didn’t do anything wrong today: he never does anything wrong, because he’s perfection. You’re the fuck up here, not him. Don’t fuck him up, don’t be a dick to him.”

 

“Louis?” Harry’s voice asked hesitantly, and then Zayn saw the boy himself creep out from behind the door, shutting it quietly behind him. How different his entrance was from Louis’. But it was typical of them: Louis was the loud, Harry was the quiet. Louis was the storm, Harry was the calm. Louis was the strength, Harry was the love. 

 

“Are you alright?” Harry asked softly as he walked closer, reaching the window but keeping his distance from Louis. There was at least three feet of space between them, when there usually wasn’t three centimeters. 

“Yeah, yeah, perfectly fine." Louis babbled back, staring out the window so he didn't have to look at Harry. His voice was too high. "Not a bother on me, matie!"

"Are you sure?" Harry cajoled, his natural drawl even slower than normal. He dipped his head to try and make Louis look at him, gazing at the other boy through his floppy curls. "You haven't seemed yourself, lately, and I was just wondering if you wanted to talk to me about- whatever's going on." 

"I said I'm fine, Harry." Louis said, his tone turning sterner. Harry visibly stiffened and took a tiny step backward, sighing tiredly. 

"You never talk to me anymore." Harry whispered with exhaustion. 

"We talk all the time!" Louis said in exasperation, throwing his hands up in the air. "We're talking right now!" 

"No, but- I mean _really_ talk. You used to tell me things, like how your day went, or what you were feeling at a certain time or....or how you felt about me. You've just been so distant recently, and I'm wondering if I did something wrong?" 

"You did nothing wrong, Hazza." Louis replied, his voice softening again. "Nothing, sweetheart, nothing." 

"Then why can't you look at me?" Harry said brokenly, his voice cracking as a few tears dribbled down his cheeks. "If- if I didn't do anything, then why-why?" 

 

Harry gasped quickly, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. For a few moments, Louis raised his hands towards him, as if about to reach over and enfold him in his arms. But then he dropped them back down to his sides, his expression looking like he was being torn in two. Harry stared at his feet, gulping deeply, and Louis cleared his throat, passing a hand over his face. 

 

"You shouldn't worry about me like you do." he said woodenly. "I'm- I'm nothing, Harry. I'm a meager blip on your radar of life. You shouldn't worry about me, at all." 

"But I do." Harry said wretchedly, tugging at his curls and raising his head back up to look at Louis. Beside him, Niall reached over and grazed his fingers across the inside of Zayn's wrist, before reaching down to hold his hand. Zayn clung back to him, pressing his face into Niall's hair for a moment. 

"Why?" Louis asked pleadingly. "Why do you? I don't deserve you, everybody can see that, so why do you?" 

"Louis, that's bullshit, for two reasons. One, it's not about deserving, which you totally do by the way, it's about wanting. And two, you know why I worry about you!" Harry shot back, suddenly coming back to life. He stepped backward, going back and forth across the room, getting more worked up. His face shone with passion, and Zayn couldn't figure out if it was good or bad. "You know why. I have told you why, again and again. Fuck's sake, I try to show you why everyday!" 

 

Louis was whitening, his cheeks turning paler by the second. He stumbled backward from Harry, banging his back against the edge of the windowsill. He shook his head hurriedly, holding his hands out to Harry beseechingly. 

"Don't say it, please don't, it crucifies me every time you say it, because I can't say it back-" 

"I worry about you because I'm in love with you." Harry said lowly, walking back to Louis and cupping his cheeks with his hands. 

 

Niall barely held back a gasp, and Zayn rushed to clamp his free hand over his boyfriend's mouth, pressing Niall's face into his chest. Niall held onto him tightly, his body shaking silently. Zayn bowed his own head so he couldn't see what was happening, because if anything was private, it was this. Unfortunately, Zayn could still hear them speaking. Or rather, Harry speaking. 

 

"I'm so in love with you, Louis." Harry whispered into Louis' hair. "I know I've told you that before, and that you don't understand it, but I hope someday you'll grasp just how much I love you. You make me laugh. My heart sings every time I see you. I think- I think you understand me the best, out of anyone else in my life. You touch my soul." 

Louis choked into Harry's chest, making a strangled noise in the back of his throat. He pulled back, looking up at the taller boy, and Zayn could see the terror in his eyes from between the slats of the shelves. Louis swallowed thickly, blinking a couple times, like he was dazed. 

"I- I-" Louis started weakly, before his voice trailed off. 

 

Niall dug his nails into Zayn's palms as they waited for him to speak again. Zayn held onto him just as tightly as he heard Harry give a hopeful little inhale. He could just picture how Harry looked, all shining big eyes, a wondering small smile, and hope crisscrossing his every delicate feature. Right now, he thought Louis was going to say it back, he thought that all his dreams were going to come true, he thought that everything would be fixed by this. 

 

_Say it, Louis, say it._ Zayn thought desperately, hoping that he had some best friend telepathy with Lou. _He needs to know you love him. Say it, you stubborn bastard._

 

"I- I have to go." 

 

Louis ran. Harry stayed. 

 

That day, Liam was the only one who left the library smiling. 

 

"Jesus Christ." Niall said lowly as he and Zayn stood outside the library after everyone else had left, leaning back against the wall. "I feel traumatized after that conversation, and it didn't even involve me! Poor Haz." 

Zayn said nothing, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a single cigarette. His hands were still shaking from the pent up adrenaline of hearing Louis' and Harry's talk, so he fought to still them. He grabbed his lighter and then took a drag. But for once, the smoke didn't calm him: if anything, it made him more jittery than ever. Niall watched him with his head tipped to the side, looking at the cigarette held loosely between his fingers. Zayn glanced back at him as he breathed out some smoke, coughing into his elbow. 

"Can I try?" Niall asked suddenly, his voice startling Zayn a bit. 

"Smoking?" Zayn said, somewhat incredulously. "You want to start?" 

 

Niall nodded earnestly, face tilted up to Zayn, and Zayn paused, his hand halfway into his pocket to pull out his pack. He looked back at Niall, saw how youthful his face was. He didn't have a smoker's lines around his mouth, or a smoker's constant hunger in his eyes. His hands didn't shake if he went too long without nicotine, and his skin didn't carry around an underlying smell of ash. He was pure, in every sense of the word, and Zayn might be destroying that in some areas of Niall's life, but he decided that he wouldn't be destroying Niall's purity in this one. So, he silently shook his head no, shoving the pack of cigarettes back into his pocket. 

 

"No?" Niall said and Zayn nodded, dropping the lighter back into his other pocket. Part of him wanted to throw it to the ground and smash it to a million pieces. 

“Definitely not.”

“Why not?” Niall asked curiously. “Why don’t you want me to start?”

“Because-” Zayn started, voice weak. He cleared his throat and looked at his feet, tasting ashes in his mouth. “Because it’s destructive. And you’re the last person I want destroying themselves. It’s not fun, Niall, it’s really not. I have to smoke like...at least four times a day, or else I get tremors. I constantly smell like smoke, and I spend a shit-ton of money to fund this awful habit, and for what? Shaking? Dizziness? Not being able to breathe? I wish I hadn’t started, and now I can’t stop, but I’m not enabling you to get like this!”

 

Zayn realized too late that his voice was getting louder and louder with each word. And he only realized that he was nearly shouting when he heard sound reverberate off the wall next to him. He closed his mouth in a hurry, feeling his eyes bore into Niall. Niall blinked up at Zayn, looking stunned, his mouth hanging open and eyes as wide as saucers,, and Zayn automatically felt guilty. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and looked at his feet, sighing. 

“I’m sorry.” he amended, his voice small. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at myself for starting to smoke, and I guess- I guess I don’t want you to feel this way-”

“You really care about me, don’t you.” Niall interrupted quietly, looking at Zayn with wonder. It wasn’t a question, just the statement of a fact. “You really do.”

 

Zayn flushed and nodded, biting his lip. He then nodded again, more firmly this time. 

“I really, really do.” he responded with a shrug of his shoulders. “Which is why I don’t want you purposefully inhaling smoke into your perfectly healthy lungs. Why do you wanna start, anyway?”

“You’re not going to like this answer.” Niall said carefully, and Zayn gestured towards him to keep talking, wondering what his reasoning could be. Niall took a breath, and then smiled helplessly, shaking his head. 

“I _wanted_ to start because it reminds me of you.” he said simply. Zayn flinched away from him automatically and Niall reached for him, his hands eager to soothe already. He grabbed Zayn’s arms and tugged him back towards him, running his hands up and down Zayn’s biceps in a comforting rhythm. 

 

“I knew you wouldn’t like it.” he said, his voice bursting with affection. “But you’ve misunderstood me. It doesn’t remind me of you for the reasons you think. Remember the first party I ever went to, with you and the other guys in October?”

Zayn nodded, because yeah, he’d feel pretty idiotic if he forgot that. Niall gripped his arms tighter, smiling. 

“Okay, good. So, you probably don’t remember this particular part, because really, it’s a miniscule detail, compared to everything else that happened that night. Anyway, you went in, and I didn’t, and then you came back. You remember that?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“Alright, awesome. What did you do next? Like, directly after you came back?”

Niall fell silent as he let Zayn try and think back. But, fuck, he couldn’t remember his next action for the life of him. He remembered the cold, he remembered the couple making out on the lawn beside them: Hell, he remembered what shirt he’d been wearing. But Zayn couldn’t recall whatever he’d done next, even though it was obviously branded in Niall’s memory. Zayn shook his head, giving up, and then Niall spoke again. 

“Zayn, you offered me a cigarette.” he said, still rubbing his thumbs reassuringly across Zayn’s arms. “Might’ve even been the last one in your pack, too.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Zayn asked in confusion, his eyebrows wrinkling together. 

"Well, why'd you offer it to me?" 

“You seemed really stressed out, so like...I smoke when I get nervous, so I thought that if you did, you’d appreciate a cigarette. I was trying to- to calm you, I guess? Make you feel better?”

“That’s everything, Zayn.” Niall whispered softly. “That simple action showed me that you were capable of caring, because up until that point, I’d only seen you as this fit tough guy that I had a major crush on. But that night, on the front porch, I started to see you as the Zayn I know now. The sweet, caring, lovely guy that won’t let me start smoking because he doesn’t want to see me destroyed. You became less of my hero and more of my friend, that night. I’d never felt more cared for and protected then, and it was all through offering me a cigarette. So, I think that I thought if I started to smoke, I’d get that feeling back, every time I brought a cigarette to my lips.”

 

Zayn didn’t know when he started crying, but it seemed too late to try and hide it. Niall gently touched his face, wiping away the wetness tenderly. His touch was so soft, and Zayn pressed against it, desperate for more, positively hungry for it. Maybe nicotine wasn't his only addiction. 

"But I don't need to smoke to get that feeling." Niall continued, brushing the pads of his thumbs over Zayn's damp eyelids. 

"Why?" Zayn croaked back, sniffling. 

"Because I feel cared for and protected every time you look at me." Niall whispered as he plucked the cigarette out of Zayn’s mouth and replaced it with his lips. And okay, yeah, Zayn was definitely addicted to something other than nicotine. Some _one_ , really. 

 

Zayn pulled back from the kiss lazily, Niall following him for a few seconds. Zayn laughed breathlessly and put his hands on Niall’s chest, feeling his warmth. 

“Easy, tiger.” he teased fondly. “Now, how’s this proposition sound to you: You don’t go home right now. Instead, you come home with me and we eat dinner? We don’t even have to eat with my family, I’ll sneak two portions out of the kitchen and we’ll eat in the basement or the living room or something.” 

To Zayn’s surprise, Niall’s face fell. He bit his lip and hurriedly shook his head no, eyes downcast to the concrete beneath his feet. 

“I can’t.” he mumbled smally. “I’ve been gone all day long- my dad- he worries about me, as you know. And I don’t like him in our house all alone. He can’t be left with just his thoughts for too long, gets him too sad. So yeah. I’ll have to pass. But some other time would be really, really nice.”

 

Maybe Zayn just really didn’t want Niall to leave. Maybe Zayn was desperate to ease his addiction. Maybe he didn’t want to go into withdrawal for a human being. Maybe Zayn was upset by the idea of Mr. Horan, all by himself in that enormous house. Maybe Zayn went momentarily fucking insane. 

 

“Your dad can come too!” he said brightly. 

 

Maybe the look on Niall’s face made it worth it. 

 

It went better than Zayn expected, honestly. Zayn’s family were kinda surprised to see him coming home with the Horan family of two in tow, but they took it quickly in the stride. Zayn’s mother, in particular, was pleased to see Niall again. She greeted him with a big smile and a warm hug, which he melted into instantly. Zayn watched as Niall put his head in the crook of his mother’s neck, arms wrapped around her waist. Zayn didn’t know what it was about his mother that affected Niall so much, but he seemed to go to absolute pieces every time she came near. Tricia rubbed her hands up and down Niall’s back, looking at Zayn curiously over his bowed shoulder. 

“He alright?” she mouthed worriedly and Zayn nodded, more nervous about introducing Niall’s parent. Mr. Horan was standing in the corner of the room, looking anxiously himself. He hadn’t wanted to come, but it’d taken maybe ten minutes of Zayn’s insistence that it wouldn’t be a problem and Niall’s wheedling. Zayn thought it was all Niall though. He had his father wrapped around his finger. All it’d taken was one look from those big blue eyes, and his coat was halfway on. 

 

The introductions between the two parents went well though. At least, they didn’t seem to hate one another, which had to be a plus, right? Mr. Horan stepped forward from his corner, smiling widely with an outstretched hand. 

“Hello, I’m Bobby. Horan, Niall’s dad.” he said, friendly as he shook hands with Tricia and then Ysaer. Tricia smiled welcomingly and Zayn wanted to clap with glee. Zayn’s dad, however, gave a meager nod, and Zayn wanted to rip off his skin. Niall looked at him and squeezed his bicep comfortingly, but betrayed his own nerves by biting down on his thumb. Zayn batted the hand by his mouth away. 

“I’m sorry if this is an imposition.” Bobby started, apologetic. “The boys convinced me to come, and it was probably a mista-”

“No.” Ysaer said suddenly, his tone warm. “We’re happy to have you both. Nice to meet the people Zayn never shuts his gob about.”

 

With that, whatever awkwardness there had been was broken. The group sat down at the table and ate, and the food might’ve been a bit too spicy for the Horan men, but they fared moderately well. Zayn sat next to Niall, like he had at the library. But this time, their hands were linked on the top of the table, both of them eating with one hand, and nobody batted an eye about it. Zayn watched as his dad make a dry joke about their shitty local footie team, making Bobby laugh hysterically. He watched Niall’s eyes light up with joy, watching his dad’s own joy. And he watched his mother checking up on Niall constantly, patting his hand or his shoulder every time she walked by. 

 

Zayn couldn’t imagine not having a mother. He couldn’t imagine not having that unceasing support and love. He didn’t want to imagine the pain of it. But he found that he was perfectly fine with the idea of sharing his mother with another boy. He saw that Niall leaned into the touches Tricia gave him unknowingly, like his body was yearning for that maternal affection. He thanked her for dinner about five times, and Zayn wondered when was the last time Niall had tasted his own mother’s cooking. 

 

After dinner, Niall insisted on clearing the entire table, despite Tricia saying that he didn’t have to. He washed off his plate in the sink and then put it into the dishwasher, while Zayn watched in amazement. Things that Zayn found an absolute chore were things that Niall wanted to do. Who was this kid? 

“You have a very well-mannered son, Mr. Horan.” Tricia said approvingly as Niall eagerly got out plates for dessert. She sent a gentle smile Niall’s way and he blushed in happiness, scurrying away from the table. 

“Yes, yes, he’s a good boy, isn’t he?” Mr. Horan said proudly, his eyes shining as he looked at the blonde boy. “But not a patch on your’s, I’m afraid. Perfect gentleman every time I’ve met him.”

 

Niall and Zayn looked at each other and took this as their cue to leave. Zayn didn’t want to be around for boring parent’s talk, and he doubted Niall did, so he silently retreated out of the kitchen. Niall gave one more profuse thank you to Tricia before he followed him, the two of them going to sit in the living room. Zayn sat down on the couch and Niall stretched out beside him. Zayn arranged them so Niall’s head was on his lap and ran his hands through Niall’s hair as the boy looked back up at him, eyes half closed. His lips were a lovely rose color. Zayn sighed in contentment and rested his head against the cushion of the couch. He was sleepy, his limbs all floppy, and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to get up from this couch. He didn’t really care if he couldn’t, either. 

“Zayn?” Niall said suddenly, his voice soft. 

“Yeah?” Zayn answered, his hands stilling in Niall’s hair. He tilted his head to look at his boyfriend properly and Niall blinked at him, eyes droopy. 

“I might abduct your mum.” he mumbled sleepily, his lips barely moving. 

“Niall, I’m pretty sure that if you asked her, she’d go willingly.” Zayn responded. 

 

Niall smiled widely and turned onto his side, so his face was pressed against Zayn’s stomach. Zayn put his hands squarely on Niall’s back, feeling the reassuring rise and fall of his breathing. He crested a hand up toward Niall’s neck, playing with the light brown hairs at the nape of his neck. Niall giggled and squirmed a bit, scrunching his shoulders up to his neck. 

“You need another dye job, Ni.” Zayn said, playing with the brown roots of Niall’s hair. Niall looked at him, shrugging his shoulders. 

“I dunno.” he said, non-committal, “I’m thinking about letting it go back to brown. What’d’ya think?”

Zayn’s face must’ve been answer enough, because Niall burst into giggles, pressing his face more firmly into Zayn’s abdomen, his breath warming Zayn’s skin through his shirt. Zayn felt a twist of arousal in his stomach, and he took a steadying breath. His parents were in the next room over, for God’s sake. 

“I’m just messin’ with ya, I’m so ugly as a brunette. But I’m guessing that’s a no from you.” Niall chortled, his voice muffled. “Your face! It fell at least fifty feet.”

“I like you blonde.” Zayn said cajolingly. “I really, _really_ doubt you’re ugly with brown hair. But- but the color suits you. It’s- sunny.” 

 

Zayn could hear Niall’s quick inhale of breath at the word and Zayn gulped, his throat tight. Niall turned on his back again so he could look at him, eyes big. Zayn pressed his thumb against Niall’s parted lips, feeling his hand tremble slightly. 

“You are my sunshine.” he whispered, and Niall shut his eyes, two tiny tears creeping down his face and dropping onto Zayn’s lap. He sniffed shallowly, giving a weak smile. 

“I do not deserve you.” he breathed, leaning up and pressing the softest, quickest kiss imaginable to Zayn’s mouth. “But thank you.”

 

Soon after, Niall fell asleep on Zayn’s lap, worn out from everything they’d experienced today. Zayn just sat there and stared at him, marveling at his beauty. Zayn had never seen Niall asleep before, and it physically hurt him, causing a ache in his chest he didn’t quite understand. Niall looked positively angelic in sleep, his features smooth and unworried. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. Zayn heard music in his slow breathing. 

 

Zayn tore his eyes away from Niall’s sleeping face, because his chest was starting to hurt quite a bit now. He looked around the room for something to distract himself with, but he almost could’ve cried when his eyes landed on his sketchbook, sitting on the coffee table. The sketchbook Niall had gotten him for Christmas. 

 

Missing this opportunity would’ve just been a crime. 

 

Slowly, Zayn reached forward, careful not to jostle Niall too much, in case he woke up. His fingers closed around the rings of the book and he grabbed it, sliding it closer to him. He found a pencil tucked inside as he opened it, flipping to a blank page. Feeling vaguely like a stalker and/or Edward Cullen, he started to draw. 

 

This wasn’t a doodle or a sketch, scribbled on a napkin with a pen. This wasn’t his messy, subpar painting. This was Zayn in his drawing element: a piece of paper and a pencil. He drew silently, focusing more on the page than the book on his lap. He stole glances at Niall occasionally, but not too often. Zayn had committed Niall’s face to memory long ago. The only thing he struggled with was the eyes, because they were closed this time around. 

 

As Zayn worked, Tricia came in, holding two pieces of chocolate cake. Zayn hurriedly held a finger to his lips, hoping that the noise she made hadn't woken Niall. The boy sighed in his sleep, turning over on his side, his hand patting Zayn's knee and then holding on loosely. Tricia nodded in understanding, smiling tenderly. She quietly set the plates down on the coffee table and then crept over to Zayn. She smoothed back his hair lovingly, then looking down at the book in Zayn's hands. 

"Lovely." she said, sounding pleased but unsurprised.   
“Yeah.” Zayn whispered, eyes flicking down to look at Niall’s peaceful face. “He is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was basically all Ziall PDA and feelings. Is that a bad thing or a good thing? XD Comments and kudos make me happy <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is finally here!!! And I just took that AP test today, so if there's errors, please excuse them, my brain is rather numb at the moment XD Tell me what you think, and if you like listening to music while you read, I suggest listening to "Bright" by Echosmith as you read this, because it's all I listened to while I wrote it XD

Louis broke up with Harry on Valentine's Day. 

And okay, Zayn knew Louis had his emotional problems. He knew that whatever he and Harry were had been doomed for awhile, maybe since they'd started. He knew that it was a possibility, however small, that some time apart was the best thing for the two of them, because it'd make Harry stop feeling like shit over things he couldn't understand and things Louis refused to explain. 

But did Zayn also know that what Louis did to Harry was a completely shitty thing to do? Abso-fucking-lutely. 

Harry was such a romantic. He had an alphabetized romantic comedy collection. Jane bloody Austen was his favourite author. He probably had Valentine's Day marked down on his calendar with little love hearts and smiley faces and Louis' initials. Being told by the boy he loved with his entire body and soul that they were over on that particular day would probably kill him. And because Zayn had been there, he saw that it nearly did. 

Alright, Zayn wasn't there for the actual incident, but he was pretty damn close. Zayn and Niall had scheduled their own Valentine's date for 6:30. Because they couldn't really go out and celebrate the holiday together without raising some suspicions, they’d decided to have an evening in. They’d watch movies, maybe order some pizza, you know: normal male bachelor activities. (Zayn planned on snogging him at some point in the course of the evening but shh, nobody needed to know.)

Zayn dressed casually but nicely, donning khakis and a polo. He traded his scuffed trainers for new black shoes that still shone at the toes. He combed his hair back, shaved, and even put on cologne. He wanted to look smart, because isn’t that what you’re supposed to look like on Valentine’s Day? Like you’re putting more effort in, in every aspect, because the person is worth it or something? Zayn didn’t really understand it, but he still wanted to get it right, even if they weren’t going out on an actual date. He definitely looked more clean-cut, anyway. Zayn then tore through his house, looking for his box-set of all 8 Harry Potter films, because Niall was getting educated on the wonders of the wizarding world tonight, dammit.  
“Safaa!” Zayn called from where he was searching in the living room. “Did you take my Harry Potter’s _again_?”  
“No!” his sister yelled back from wherever the hell she was in the house, and Zayn sighed, hanging his head. Tricia came around a corner, wiping her hands on her jeans. She glanced at Zayn and moved closer.  
“Okay there, pet?” she asked nonchalantly, in the way that mothers seem to perfect when they want to know your business but don’t want to directly ask.  
“No.” Zayn groaned. “I can’t find the fuc- _stupid_ \- movies, and I’m going over to Niall’s tonight, and that’s what we’re meant to watch.”  
“They’re in the basement.” his mother responding automatically. “You put them there last time Safaa borrowed them, so she couldn’t find them.”  
“You’re a literal life saver.” Zayn said wonderingly. Tricia smiled again and shrugged her shoulders modestly. She looked Zayn up and down, taking in his appearance. Surprise flitted across her face for a moment, but then she pushed it away. 

“So, Niall, huh?” she said unassumingly, and Zayn stiffened at the tone, wondering what conversation was about to be had. “Things are getting pretty serious between you two.”  
“Yeah, I guess?” Zayn said, fidgeting uncomfortably as his mother smoothed down the crinkled shoulders of his shirt. “It’s good, we’re good.”  
“Okay, Zayn, I know you probably don’t want to talk to me about this,” Tricia started and Zayn suddenly felt the desire to run as far as he could in the opposite direction. “But Niall is younger than you, so he definitely won’t know what to do, and his mother isn’t there to have this talk with him, so-”  
“Mum, what are you trying to say?” Zayn asked warily. Tricia reddened and took a deep breath, shaking her head in resignation.  
“Protection, Zayn.” she said at last. “I’m telling you to wear protection tonight.”  
“Oh my god, Mum, _stop_.” Zayn said, shutting his eyes in horror as his cheeks burned from embarrassment. “Please, don’t say those words ever, _ever_ again.”  
“I’m serious!” Tricia said earnestly, her eyes widening. “Niall’s on the younger side, which is worrying enough on it’s own, so the thought certainly won’t have entered his head. You’re going over there tonight, you’re going to be alone with him, you both seem to care about one another a lot, and it’s Valentine’s Day, so in case things escalate-”  
“Escalate? What, I’m gonna drag him up some moving stairs?”  
“I remember what it’s like to be young and caught up in the moment-”  
“ _Mum_!!” Zayn said violently, covering his hands with his ears, as if he could un-hear those words. “I don’t need to know that. We’re not gonna- definitely not. No. Not a chance. I don’t want there to be a chance!”  
“But- what’s all- all this- about?” Tricia asked in confusion, gesturing at Zayn’s entire body. Zayn stared at her, wondering if this was actually his life.  
“I can’t wear a nice pair of pants without being accused of- of promiscuity?” Zayn asked, and he finally cracked. He burst out laughing, because the past five minutes didn’t seem real, and he’s amazed he hadn’t melting into his shoes from humiliation, and he just really, really loves his mother. 

“Go, you scalawag.” Tricia said, giggling too as she swatted him with a magazine from the coffee table. “Hopefully I’ve embarrassed you enough that there’s zero chance.”  
“Trust me, Mum, you have.”

 

Zayn ran to the basement and grabbed the box set, lugging it out to his bike. Patting his khaki pockets, he checked to make sure he had everything he needed. His keys were there, and so was his wallet, and there was Niall’s present. They’d agreed earlier in the week to not get presents for each other, but then yesterday, Zayn had been in the store and he’d seen something that he simply had to buy. It was small, nothing fancy, just something that Zayn hoped would make Niall smile. He didn’t even want a present back, because that’s not what this was about. Personally, Zayn thought Niall was present enough. 

 

Zayn had just withdrawn his hand from his pocket and stepped onto his bike when his phone started to ring. Fumbling around for it, he hurriedly answered when he saw Niall’s name on the Caller ID.  
“Hey, babe!” he said cheerily, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he kicked the stand on his bike up with his heel. “Sorry I’m running late, I’m on my way now, I promise-”  
“Uh, yeah, Zayn-” Niall’s said, his voice fading in and out of focus. Jesus, what was happening on his end of the line? It was making a serious ruckus, whatever it was. “Something’s happened.”

Zayn stilled instantly, his mouth turning dry. He clenched the phone tighter against his ear, feeling his knuckles whitening. He tried to breathe to ground himself, but he didn’t draw in any air. His throat was too tight.  
“What? Niall, what’s wrong” he managed, feeling his heart thud. “Are you okay?”

With those words, Zayn was thrown back to another time. It was only a few weeks ago, but with everything that had happened since, it felt like years. A time when he’d been sitting in his bed, not on the phone with Niall but Louis, on the precipice of something great and terrified he was going to fall. 

 

_"No! Don't hang up, Lou. Something's happened."_  
"What? Zayn, what's wrong?"  
"Nothing's really **wrong**."  
"Is Harry okay?"  
"What? Yeah, yeah, Harry's fine." 

“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Niall said, his voice loudening. Zayn was so relieved, he felt his head spin. He let out a shaky breath, his fist getting looser. His heart was still hammering, but it gradually slowed. Zayn looked up at the murky gray sky, his lips forming a “thank you.” Who he was thanking, Zayn didn’t know. 

Maybe Louis’ reaction that day made sense. 

 

“I’m at Harry’s house.” Niall continued. “He- he’s kinda upset, tonight. It’s been a bad day for him, so he’s crying-”  
Niall’s voice suddenly broke off, getting muffled again. Zayn listened closer and- yeah, that ungodly noise through the phone was Harry Styles sobbing his heart out. Every thirty seconds or so, it’d get softer, as if Harry was trying to quiet himself, but then it’d come back again, stronger and louder than before. Zayn heard Niall’s voice, gentle and soothing, trying to calm him. But he could also hear the edge of panic behind it, the franticness that Niall just couldn’t hide. Zayn couldn’t really blame him: anyone would get stressed in the face of that hysteria. Who knows how long he’d been there, listening to Harry weep?  
“I’ve been here for two hours.” Niall said, answering Zayn’s unspoken question. “I dunno if I’m making things any better, at all, and he won’t stop- I mean, not that he should, given- well, you’ll find out- but I’m getting kinda stressed out myself, and-”  
“On my way, Niall.” Zayn said, turning his motorcycle on and rolling away from the curb  
“Zayn Malik, I’m kissing you as soon as you arrive. Spectators be damned.”  
“Not if I kiss you first.”  
“Don’t forget your pads and helmet!” Niall said as they both ended the call.  
“Oh shit, yeah, yeah.” Zayn babbled half to himself and half to the phone, guilty in a way he couldn’t really define. He jumped off the bike and strapped on the equipment, feeling strangely like he was putting on armour for battle. 

 

Well, Harry’s room was certainly like a bomb hit it. Zayn arrived at Harry’s house and rang the doorbell, bracing himself for what was to come. Harry’s mother, a pretty dark-haired woman named Anne, answered the door, and really, her face said it all. She gave Zayn a sad smile, glancing up at the ceiling above her head.  
“They’re in his room.” she said in way of a greeting, opening the door for him and stepping aside so he could come in. “I’m gonna assume that you’re poor Niall’s reinforcements. He’s so good, been up there calming him for the past two hours. Of course, Harry won’t let me get near...I told him he’d get his heart broken, I did…”

Zayn gave a tight-lipped smile, entering the house and toeing off his shoes, leaving them by the door. He walked to the staircase and goes up to the second floor, knowing the way to Harry’s room. It’s at the end of the corridor, on the left, so he turned, pausing before he knocked.  
“Hello?” Zayn said, rapping his knuckles against the door. “Ni? Harry? I’m here.”

Suddenly, the door was flung open, and Niall hurtled out, closing it quickly behind him. He threw himself into Zayn’s arms, burying his head into the crook of his neck. Zayn was surprised by the embrace from his boyfriend, but he welcomed it, wrapping his arms around Niall’s body and holding him close. He found comfort in Niall’s solidness, in the physical reassurance that he was alright and breathing and _here_. Zayn felt his throat close over again, because he was still frightened from earlier, and he pressed a shaky kiss to the top of Niall’s head, his apple shampoo coiling through his nostrils.  
“Thank God.” Niall said fervently, and Zayn had to agree, but for different reasons. Niall pulled back from the hug, and he didn’t notice Zayn hurriedly wipe at the damp corners of his eyes. Niall looked absolutely wrecked, his face drawn and tired. He had the beginnings of dark circles beneath his eyes, and Zayn frowned at the sight of them. Why was his boy so exhausted?

“He can’t stop crying.” Niall said, keeping his voice low so Harry wouldn’t hear him. “Every time I think he’s quieting down, it starts up again.”  
“What happened?” Zayn asked, not really needed to hear the answer. Nobody had verbalized it, but the entire house permeated with the feeling of heartbreak, and there was only one person who could break Harry Styles’ heart.  
“Louis broke up with him this morning.” Niall said sadly, casting his eyes downward. “Came to his house and set him down on the swingset out back and ended them right there. At least, that’s what I think happened, it’s kinda hard to decipher, through his blubbering…”

Here, Niall’s voice trailed off, and he stared at Zayn, looking him up and down. Eyes as wide as saucers, he wrinkled his brow, looking flabbergasted.  
“What’re you wearing?” he asked, an odd catch to his voice.  
“Clothes?” Zayn responded, confused himself. Was this really a pressing matter at the moment?  
“No, but like- that’s not your clothes.” Niall said hesitantly. “You don’t normally wear stuff like that...what happened your jeans and tank tops?”  
“I didn’t think they were right for this kind of occasion.’ Zayn said back, feeling irritation flash through him. Could he really not wear a nice outfit without suspicion? Was he that much of a punk? “But considering that we’re here, instead of on a date right now, maybe jeans and tank tops would’ve been better.”  
Niall shrank back quickly, wilting in on himself. He nodded hurriedly, looking chastened, and Zayn felt guilt hit him like a freight train. Before he could make amends, Niall slipped back inside the room, a mumbled “We’d better take care of Harry” thrown back over his shoulder. 

 

Inside, Harry was eagle spread on his bed, his duvet wrapped around his body like a cocoon. Niall walked back over to him, his feet treading quietly against the floor. Zayn watched as Niall put a gentle hand on Harry’s back, rubbing up and down as his other corded through Harry’s hair comfortingly.  
“Harry?” he said softly, “Zayn’s here, if you wanna talk to him.” 

Harry’s eyes, which had been focused firmly on the ceiling, now flicked to look at Zayn. His cheeks were rubbed raw and tearstained, and his curls stuck to his neck with sweat. He tried to smile at Zayn, a weak twitch of the lips, but then his face crumpled again, looking as desolate as before.  
“Hi Zayn.” Harry said in a rush, his voice on the verge of breaking. He gasped slightly, pressing a hand to his eyes, and Niall slowly climbed into bed beside Harry, wrapping his arms around the other boy’s body. In any other situation, it would’ve looked ridiculous. Niall's body was dwarfed by Harry's, his shorter limbs draped across the taller boy's. Niall was clinging onto Harry with everything he had, hooking his chin around Harry's shoulder. Zayn could hear him humming under his breath, and the entire sight just looked so sad, that Zayn did the only thing that made sense. He climbed in beside them. 

Sitting down on the left side of the bed, Zayn swung his legs up, gingerly so he didn't disturb the mattress too much. He then wrapped his arms around Harry's other side, nosing his face into the damp curls against Harry's neck. Exhaling slowly, Zayn opened his eyes, making quick eye contact with Niall over the slope of Harry's shoulder. But then Niall's quickly flashed away, heavy with sadness.  
"Wanna talk about it, Hazza?" Zayn said softly, pressing his face harder into Harry's skin. Instantly, Harry froze, his entire body tensing up. He gulped back a breath, shuddering violently, and only then did Zayn realize what he'd done.  
"Don't call me that." he whispered brokenly, his voice full of tears. "Please don't call me that, please, _please_ don't. Everyone needs to stop it, because Lo- _he_ used to call me that, and it hurts so much, so fucking much, and I just- I just can't." 

Harry was bordering on hysteria again, so the two boys held him tighter, trying to brace against the pain. Zayn's hand bumped against Niall's over Harry's hip. Hesitantly, Niall gripped his hand, the skin of his fingers cool. Zayn was distracted from the gentle touch by Harry's voice sounding again.  
"It was on the swingset." he said, sounding oddly detached all of a sudden. "He showed up here this morning, and asked me to go outside there with him. We sat there, side by side, not speaking. Like, I could tell something was wrong. Well, not that there's nothing something always wrong, these past couple weeks, but this morning was really bad. He wouldn't look at me until- until he said it." 

Harry swallowed thickly, pressing his face into the crook of Zayn's neck. He could feel him trembling, and the wetness of his tears dampened his t-shirt.  
"He said- he said that he thought it'd be for the best if we stopped 'being how we are.' Which I guess kinda sums it up, because we didn't even properly break up... because he wasn't my boyfriend. He wanted to stop hurting me, he said. But this, not being near him, not being his unofficially, hurts far more than being ignored by him did. This hurts far more than him refusing to listen when I told him I loved him. This hurts more than....than him never telling me he loved me back, because I never really believed him, until today." 

_He does!!!!!_ Zayn wanted to scream. _He loves you so much. He adores everything about you, you're perfection to him. You're his happiness and his strength and his home. He wrote a song about his love for you, but he's just so scared to love, because he loved his dad and his dad left him. He'd rather lose your love than lose you entirely._

Harry slowly eased himself up until he was sitting, seeming caged in by their arms. He dragged his hands down his wet face, then pulling his curls back from his eyes. Zayn and Niall sat up too, keeping their hands to themselves this time. Harry held his head in his hands, leaning his elbows on his knees. Niall glanced at Zayn before putting a hand on Harry's back, massaging him. They both knew that Harry had more to say, because it seemed like everything that happened that morning was calculated. They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting Harry breathe, and then the words started up once more. 

"The first place he ever kissed me was that swingset." Harry said, desperately sad, his gaze fixed on the wall directly in front of him. "It was last spring, the first really warm day when you just know that winter is over. There were birds chirping, the sun was shining, and a patch of daisies were right beneath my feet. He saw them too, and he plucked one, the biggest of the bunch. Then he- he tucked it behind my ear, and said I was more beautiful than any flower. And then we were kissing, and I was never happier than I was on the swingset. Except after today, it's also where I was saddest, and right now, I'm so sad, it hurts to breathe."  
"Harry." Niall crooned gently, bumping his head against Harry's shoulder. "Harry, Harry, Harry. You don't deserve to feel this way. You did nothing wrong, you loved him with everything in you-"  
"But, Niall, that's the point." Harry interrupted, sounding wretched. "He planned all of this meticulously, so I'd wind up hating him. He did it on Valentine's Day, because I love this day and we- we never got to experience it together. He did it on the swingset because that's where we started and he wanted us to end there too. He did it so I'd hate him. But I don't." 

Harry gulped, tears seeping out of his eyes. He wiped at them with his sleeve, rigoring. Chewing down on his bottom lip, he hissed back some air through his clenched teeth, hanging his head, almost in defeat.  
"I love him. I'm hopelessly in love with him." Harry choked out. "He broke my fucking heart, on the most romantic day of the year, in the very place I first felt how perfectly we fit together, and I still love him. I'll never hate him, because I can't. I want to, God knows I want to, because it'd hurt less, but I can't. He's mine, even if I was never his, and even though I'm never going to be." 

All the emotion Harry was holding back the whole time he spoke let loose. He let out a strangled cry, falling back onto the pillows and then pressing his face into them in an attempt to smother his howls. Zayn and Niall didn't hold him this time, letting him feel everything by himself. Slowly, Niall reached over to Zayn, letting his head rest on his shoulder for a few moments. Zayn took Niall's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the delicate bones of the back. Behind them, Harry gradually quieted, hiccuping hoarsely. He sighed heavily, pinching his nose between his fingers. 

"And now I've ruined your Valentine's Day." he groaned, his voice scratchy. "Instead of whatever lovely evening you guys had planned, you listened to me wail."  
"It's no problem, Harry." Zayn said quietly, reaching back and gripping the boy's ankle in comfort. "We wanted to be here for you, that's what we're for."  
Harry's eyes welled up again, and he sniffed fiercely, trying to hold the tears back. He sat up and basically hurdled himself at Zayn, embracing him tightly. Over his shoulder, Zayn could see Niall looking at them, his expression unbelievably tender. Zayn gave his boyfriend a small smile, and Niall returned it, his eyes crinkling. Zayn felt an irrepressible urge to touch him somehow, so he reached over and gently bopped Niall on the nose, making him giggle silently. 

"Do you guys wanna stay for dinner?" Harry asked once he and Zayn let one another go. "I know it's far from the romantic night you probably had planned, but my mum made cottage pie, and that’s pretty good, and- and I just can’t face being by myself yet.”  
“Well, Harry,” Niall said, throwing an arm around his shoulders, “If Miss. Anne’s cottage pie is on offer, then I guess we’ll have to stay. And I suppose you’re a pretty sweet piece of the deal.”

The obvious affection from Niall, blatant and true, brought a miniscule smile to Harry’s face, and Zayn figured that there were definitely worse ways to spend your Valentine’s Day than with Harry Styles and Niall Horan. The three of them flopped back on Harry’s bed, Harry having put a video game into the console, bringing three controllers over. They played happily, Zayn silently destroying the other two in Grand Theft Auto while Niall screeched about “fuckin’ English bastards.” When Harry chuckled at that, softly but surely, Zayn and Niall just looked at each other, knowing this visit had been necessary and worth it. And all the while they played, nobody mentioned that all the top scores in every game Harry owned were under the same tiny, pixelated name: **Louis**

 

“Can you believe we almost had our first fight over clothes?” Niall said when Zayn dropped him back home later that evening. "Seriously, we're like...candy and sunshine and bloody butterflies, compared to what happened Louis and Harry today."  
Zayn nodded, leaning against the pole of Niall's front porch. He looked down, taking in his khakis and fiddling with the cuffed sleeves of his shirt. He knew that what tension there had been between him and Niall earlier was now gone, but he still wanted to know why. So he looked at Niall and shrugged his shoulders.  
"Why'd it bother you, though?" Zayn asked. "Just so I understand, so I don't do it again."  
"It didn't really bother me, Zayn." Niall said cajolingly, reaching for him and putting his arms around his waist. "I was just surprised. You didn't look like yourself, and I didn't expect it. You don't look bad, never that, just different."  
"Yeah, but- but I got the feeling you didn't like it." Zayn confessed, hanging his head. "And my mum had the same reaction to my outfit, and that bothered me too, because...I don't wanna look like a rebel all the time. I guess- I guess I want to look good enough. For you. For myself. I dunno..."  
"Zayn Malik." Niall said sternly, cupping Zayn's face by his cheeks and making him look into his eyes. "Don't you ever think, for a single second, that you're not good enough for me. You're one of the best people I've ever known. And honestly? At first, I didn't like your outfit, but not because it didn't suit you or something. I didn't like it because you didn't look like _my_ Zayn. The Zayn who wears ragged jeans, tank tops covered in spray paint, and an _I don't give a fuck_ expression, until you actually do give a fuck. You didn't look like the Zayn that I-" 

Here, Niall's voice broke off and he leaned up, kissing Zayn roughly on the mouth. He leaned backward after a few moments, pressing his forehead to his and breathing heavily.  
"Don't change yourself for me." Niall whispered, his nose bumping against Zayn's. "You're perfection. My perfect Zayn."  
Zayn chuckled, shaking his head, and Niall pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth, nodding firmly. Zayn suddenly remembered that it was still Valentine's Day, and that he still had a gift to give. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the tiny box enclosed there and holding it in front of Niall. Niall's mouth dropped open, his blue eyes widening.  
"Zayn!" he admonished. "We said no gifts! We said!"  
"C'mon." Zayn said affectionately, offering the box to his boyfriend. "It's only something small. Open it, babe." 

Grumbling quietly to himself, Niall took the box from Zayn, holding it in both his hands. He gingerly tugged at the purple ribbon Zayn'd tied around it, tucking it into his pocket. Wedging his thumbnail beneath the fold of the wrapping paper, he gently tore it, tugging it away and then looking at the present in his hands. Zayn watched him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction, hoping he hadn't overstepped some boundary. 

It was a set of constellation stickers: neon, glow-in-the-dark stars to be put on a kid's ceiling and light their sleep. Zayn had seen them at the drugstore and bought them on a whim. He knew it was kinda childish, but he also knew how much Niall loved stars. He didn't want to upset him, because it had been Niall's thing with his mother, but Zayn just remembered how beautiful Niall had looked under the stars, and somewhat selfishly, he wanted him to look like that every night. 

Niall gulped, clenching the box in his hands so tightly that he dented the cardboard. He glanced at Zayn, his eyes wet. Rubbing at his face, Niall sniffed, choking out a quick breath. He looked up at the eaves of the porch, shaking his head like he couldn't believe it.  
"You gave me the stars." he breathed, quickly brushing the tears away. "You gave me the stars, and I didn't get you anything."  
"You're all I need." Zayn whispered back, and Niall laughed lightly, offering Zayn his hand. He held onto him tightly, intertwining their fingers. Inclining his head towards the door, he gave Zayn a gentle tug, pulling him toward the house.  
"C'mon." he said softly, his voice tender.  
"Where're we going?" Zayn asked.  
"I'm not tall enough to put these up on the ceiling by myself, now am I?" 

 

Inside the house, Niall switched the front lights on, taking his jacket and Zayn's and hanging them up. He crept into the sitting room with Zayn behind him, following the quiet buzzing of the television. Upon entering the room, they saw that Mr. Horan was half asleep on the couch, waiting for his son to come home. Zayn hung back by the door, letting them greet one another alone. Zayn saw Niall shake his father's shoulder, gently stirring him into consciousness.  
"Dad?" he said quietly. "Zayn's here, that alright?"  
Mr. Horan nodded sleepily, raising himself up on his elbows and looking at Zayn from behind the couch arm. He gave Zayn his usual warm smile, with a friendly wave, before lying back flat on the couch. Niall patted him on the shoulder and then moved back to Zayn, taking his hand once more as they walked out of the room. Niall lead them towards the staircase, heading up the first three steps. Zayn, however, hung back at the bottom of the stairs, doubt filling his feet with lead. 

"You coming or not?" Niall asked curiously from his place on the step. Zayn pursed his lips, worried. He looked at his feet, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.  
"We're going to your room, right?" he asked, his tone lighter than he felt. Niall nodded, looking confused, and Zayn glanced back at the closed sitting room door, where Mr. Horan was.  
"Won't he-" Zayn said, jerking his chin in that direction. "Mind?"  
"Zayn, you've been there before." Niall reminded him and Zayn nodded.  
"Yeah, but we weren't dating before." Zayn said, unsure. "And he might think that I'm- doing things I shouldn't be." 

Quick as a blink, Niall was beside Zayn, up in his personal space. He gripped Zayn by both his hands, the star box held in place with his elbow, and gave him a tug, up onto the first stair. He leaned in, bringing his mouth to Zayn's ear.  
"He's a heavy sleeper." Niall whispered, catching his teeth on Zayn's earlobe, making him hiss. "And I don't really think it's up to anyone but you what you should and shouldn't do.”  
“I suppose that’s true.” Zayn replied unsteadily, one half of him hoping Niall never talked like this again and the other half hoping it never stopped.  
“Follow me then.”  
Niall walked up the stairs, and wordlessly, Zayn went up after him, feeling his heart rattle in his chest. They walked down the landing and towards Niall’s room, Niall pushing the door open and stepping aside so Zayn could enter first. 

Zayn walked in and looked around as Niall flicked a dim hanging light on. The place looked basically the same as it had before. The same posters were hanging on the walls, Niall’s guitar was still balanced on a stand in the corner, the guitar statue Zayn’d made and the photo of Niall and his mum were still on the bedside table. But this time, Zayn couldn’t help but pay specific attention to Niall’s bed. The duvet was neatly smoothed down, the pillows were all fluffed up, and Zayn was going to have an aneurysm because as much as he didn’t want to end up there, he also really, _really_ did. 

Zayn turned around, his mouth dry, as he heard Niall ripping the constellation package open. Niall gave him a sweet smile, handing him a folded up map of a diagram on how to correctly position the stars. He held some of the neon green stickers in his hands, studying them.  
“Okay, so it’s all of the Milky Way Galaxy.’ he began, “And I think we should start with Orion as the first constellation. Ya know, the dude with the belt?”

Zayn nodded like he knew what the fuck Niall was talking about and they set to work. Using Niall’s knowledge of stars and Zayn’s height to stick them to the ceiling, they got a majority of the constellations up in an hour. It was tough work, because Zayn had no idea if he was actually placing them correctly or if they just looked like a jumbled mess, but with Niall’s encouragement, they kept going until there was only one constellation left to do, the Big Dipper. And the only space left to do it was right above Niall’s bed. 

Great. 

Steeling himself, Zayn hopped up on the bed, wincing as the mattress springs rattled beneath him. He waited for a few moments to get his balance before offering Niall his hand, hauling him up to stand beside him. Niall had the stickers in his hands, and Zayn pried them out, unpeeling the first one.  
“Where’s this one go?” he asked weakly, unable to look at Niall properly.  
“Right above you.” Niall whispered and Zayn complied, reaching above himself and firmly sticking the star to the tile above his head. They proceeded like this for the next few minutes, the only sounds being Niall’s instruction and the creaking of the bed as Zayn stepped all around it, putting the stickers in the correct positions. 

And then it was done. There were no more stars left in the box, none in Niall’s hands. Niall beamed, tipping his head back to look upward. But then he brightened even more, jumping off the bed and scrambling towards the wall. He hurriedly flicked the light switch off, bathing them in darkness. He stumbled blindly back towards the bed, and Zayn leaned down, helping him back up to stand on it. They were still in pitch darkness, because the stars hadn’t yet started to glow in the dark. All Zayn could see was the light of Niall’s eyes. 

Slowly, the constellations above them started to glow, an almost sickly green light. Zayn looked around, feeling proudness swell in his chest because they’d actually done this. They’d done this _together_. And he only felt prouder when he heard Niall’s sharp, happy gasp. Glancing back at his boyfriend, Zayn saw that he looked absolutely delighted. His hands were clasped to his chest as he gazed at the stars, looking like his neck was going to snap in half. Niall slowly reached up, as high as he could go, and grazed his fingertips across one of the stars, shivering. His hair almost looked white in the dark. It wouldn’t take much for Zayn to believe that Niall was a star himself: a shooting star that’d fallen to Earth and forgotten who he was, but still felt an instinctive longing to return home.  
“Do you see them, Zayn?” Niall whispered, his voice reverent. He then turned to fix his gaze on Zayn, his eyes huge. Zayn looked straight at him, unsure of how to respond. Of course he could see them, but he knew that that’s not really what Niall meant.  
“See them doing what?” he asked, and Niall stepped closer to him, until there wasn’t an inch of space between their two bodies.  
“You’re making them dance.” he murmured breathlessly, his eyes shut. 

 

Their lips met effortlessly, Niall sighing into Zayn’s mouth with contentment. Zayn kissed Niall firmly, focusing all his energy into it, like he was built to do this and only this. Slowly, the two boys descended until they were lying down on Niall’s mattress, Zayn above Niall and looking down into his eyes. He looked blissed out, his pupils dilated, and Zayn nipped at his bottom lip gently with his teeth, asking. Niall opened his mouth willingly, wrapping his arms around Zayn and pulling him even closer. 

Friction darted between their bodies, making Zayn gasp slightly. Experimentally, he rubbed their waists together, feeling his pants tighten uncomfortably. He went slowly at first, but the pressure felt fucking amazing, so he did it again, faster this time. Niall groaned into his neck, his lips trembling against Zayn’s skin, and Zayn looked at him, suddenly worried he’d pushed too far.  
“You okay?” he asked, unable to catch his breath. “I’ll stop, let’s stop-”  
“Do that again before I bloody _die_. “ Niall gasped, his cheeks reddening. Zayn nodded hurriedly, nerves twisting his stomach because what the actual fuck was he doing? Still, he rutted his hips downward, harder than he had before. A soft moan left Niall’s mouth at the contact, and he pressed his lips together tightly, trying to stifle the sound. Zayn took the opportunity to kiss Niall’s neck, starting at his jawline and working his way down to his collarbone, and Niall downright whimpered, his hands grasping onto Zayn’s shirt.  
“This.” he stammered. “Can this go?"  
Zayn obligingly unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, tugging over his head and throwing it to the side. Niall's eyes almost bulged out of his head as he looked at Zayn, now shirtless. Niall reached up and touched the tattoo on Zayn's chest with his thumb gently, looking awed. His gaze travelled further downward, his cheeks flushing as he looked at all the ink on Zayn's skin.  
"Nialler, I'm beginning to think you've got a thing for tattoos." Zayn teased as Niall grazed his fingertips along the tattoo coiling around his hip.  
"I didn't used to." Niall murmured lowly, the words sending shivers along Zayn's back. "Not- not before you, actually. I literally wanted to die the first time I saw you shirtless, felt like I needed to be doused in holy water." 

Zayn was feeling the same sentiment as Niall's hands gently danced along his body, taking note of every single tattoo. He was melting into Niall's touch, putty in his hands. Suddenly, Niall was the artist, and Zayn was the clay, waiting to be moulded. Niall paused at the waistband of his pants, blushing some more. The front was tented forward, Zayn's not-so-secret erection making him want to scream. Niall bit his lip, glancing down again and then back up again, his eyes unsure.  
"My fault?" he said hesitantly, sounding meek. "I caused- that?"  
"Yep, yep, all you." Zayn replied shakily, gasping out loud as Niall's hand trembled and bumped right into the front of his khakis. Niall withdrew his accidental touch like he'd burned Zayn, heat from his blush radiating from his body. He gently hooked his fingers around the waistband of Zayn's pants, his fingers cool against Zayn's hot skin.  
"Zayn," he said croakily, his voice hoarse. "I know I said- that I wouldn't be ready for ages. And I'm not saying I am- I'm not ready, I can admit that. But I- I uh- I could-"  
Here, Niall paused and flicked his tongue over his dry lips, wetting them with spit. He looked down one more time and then into Zayn's eyes, his own wide, unblinking, and impossibly blue.  
"I could take care of it for you." 

Niall's words hung in the air, the implication making them heavy. The only sound in the room was their harsh, laboured breathing. Zayn's hearing was fuzzy, an odd ringing in his ears, and he swallowed deeply, feeling Niall follow the movement of his Adam's apple with his eyes. Zayn's eyes flicked to his boyfriend's lips, knowing what he'd offered to do and wanting it. He suddenly, swiftly, wanted it so much that his body nearly shook with the desire. He bowed his head into the curve of Niall's neck, tasting the sweat along his collarbone. Niall rubbed his palms up and down Zayn's thighs gingerly, murmuring sweet nothings into Zayn's ear, and Zayn shut his eyes, feeling like he was going to shatter into a billion pieces.  
"You mean so much to me, you know." Niall whispered, pressing his nose into the swell of Zayn's cheek. "So, so much. And I know I probably don't show that well, so- that's why I wanna do this." 

Niall's hands reached for the zipper of Zayn's pants, fumbling around for a few seconds. Zayn could feel him shaking from nerves, could hear how he was taking deep breaths to calm himself: His inexperience was palpable. Zayn opened his eyes slowly and looked at Niall, seeing the anxiety on his every feature. His bottom lip was worried between his teeth and he had nearly a million furrows in his forehead, but what got Zayn the most was Niall's eyes. They were wide and full of fear. 

He looked so young. 

He looked _too_ young. 

 

Fear suddenly lanced through Zayn like a knife, fear over what exactly he was about to do. He couldn't do this, couldn't let Niall do this. They hadn't even been dating a month, Niall wasn't even sixteen and a half yet, they'd just put up bloody constellation stickers in his bedroom and now Zayn was half-dressed. He's an idiot, because this, whatever this really was, couldn't happen here. Now was not the right time and place, at all. But Zayn was so terrified that now, there was no stopping it. 

Zayn suddenly rolled himself off Niall's body, shoving himself to the right forcefully and landing on his back on the mattress. He shut his eyes and rested the palms of his hands on his stomach, trying to think of anything that would turn him the fuck off. Dead puppies. His grandmother in a bikini. His grand _father_ in a bikini. Literally anything beside the fact that Niall was currently lying beside him on a bed, warm and willing, but so not ready.  
"Zayn?" Niall whispered, sounding tentative and worried. "Are you alright?"  
Zayn opened his eyes, exhaling quietly. He turned on his side, leaning up on his elbow, and Niall mirrored the movement, so now they were looking at each other.  
"Yeah, I'm fine." Zayn whispered back, keeping his voice hushed as not to startle him.  
"Did I hurt you somehow?" Niall asked, his face distressed. "I didn't think we'd even reached a- a stage where that could be a possibility, but maybe-"  
"You didn't hurt me, darling." Zayn breathed, reaching over and cupping Niall's cheek. "Not a bit."  
"Then why-" Niall started, his voice weak. "Why'd you stop me?" 

Zayn paused, considering his words carefully. Whatever he said could seriously affect Niall's self-confidence, so he had to be very meticulous in how he phrased it. Obviously, he must be feeling hurt over Zayn's rejection right now, but Zayn still thought that stopping things before they got too far was for the better.  
"I don't want to hurt you." Zayn began cautiously, running a hand through Niall's hair comfortingly. "And doing anything with you before you're ready, mentally and emotionally, would hurt you."  
"Just because I got a bit scared doesn't mean I'm not ready-" Niall mumbled, somewhat petulantly, and Zayn smiled fondly, chucking him under the chin.  
"Yes, it does." he said affectionately. "And honestly? I got scared too."  
"No way." Niall said, firmly shaking his head. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."  
"No, I'm not!" Zayn insisted. "I'm dead serious. You terrify me, Niall Horan." 

Niall smiled hesitantly, some of his cheer from earlier reappearing, and Zayn leaned in towards him, catching the smile with his lips, like he was trying to pin it down. After they pulled back, Zayn shifted in his place on the bed, putting an arm around Niall's waist and pulling him into his chest for a cuddle. The duvet was kicked around their feet, so Zayn reached down and pulled it up to their chins. Niall put his head on Zayn's chest, his ear right over his heart, and Zayn pressed a kiss into his hair.  
"Now, Niall, why don't you tell me some more about those constellations?" he whispered, looking up at the stickers above their heads. Niall giggled into Zayn's chest, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. Ever obliging, he started to talk about the stars, the gentle timbre of his voice almost lulling Zayn to sleep. Zayn shut his eyes and just listened, hearing stories about gods and heroes and monsters in a tender Irish accent. Eventually, Niall fell silent, having apparently run out of things to say, and Zayn opened his eyes once more, fixating them on the constellations on the ceiling. And he was pretty sure they dancing, brought to life by the voice of the boy in his arms. 

 

"Zayn?" Niall whispered, after a long lull of silence.  
"Yeah?" Zayn said sleepily, looking down at Niall. He looked tired, dark circles from earlier still beneath his eyes, and Zayn figured he better start making tracks if either of them wanted to get any sleep tonight.  
"How's your art portfolio coming along?" Niall asked. "I meant to ask earlier, and forgot, in the melee."  
Zayn almost laughed, because really, his art portfolio wasn't coming along at all. It had a grand total of two pieces: the painting of Niall and the drawing of Niall. Which he couldn't really admit to Niall himself, and no art school would take him with only those anyway. Besides, his subject was more beautiful than any artistic rendition of him could ever be. But Zayn didn't want to dampen Niall's mood, or to make him worry about Zayn's future, so he figured that a little fib wouldn't be too bad.  
"It's going well." he said quietly, running his hand along Niall's bony spine. "Not quite ready yet, but getting there. Why do you ask?"  
"There's an art school in London." Niall said nonchalantly, and Zayn nodded. He knew the one: University of the Arts. That place churned out creative geniuses like no one's business. It'd probably be at the top of Zayn's university lists, if he could get off his arse and start applying.  
"Yeah, UArts." he replied, still not really sure Niall was going with this.  
"There's also a music school in London." Niall continued, not making eye contact with him. "It's called London College of Music."  
"Yeah?" Zayn said enthusiastically. "That sounds sick, Ni! You wanna apply there?"  
"Yeah, yeah, I do-" Niall said, not sounding satisfied with Zayn's reaction. It was like he wanted Zayn to answer a question he hadn't asked. He chewed on his lip and scrunched his face together, thinking. With a quick breath, he spoke again.  
"If I went there and if you went to UArts, do you think we'd- do you think we'd still see each other? Do you think we'd still date?" he said in a rush, finally meeting Zayn's eyes. His own looked tense but desperately hopeful, and Zayn nearly cried, because fuck, he thought he had to ask?

"I just don't want you to feel tied down to me, once we graduate." Niall continued hurriedly. "Like, you'll meet loads of artsy and creative and cool people at uni, and undoubtedly some of them will fancy you, most likely all of them, honestly. And- I get that I'll probably start to bore you at that point, so-"  
"Niall." Zayn said seriously. "Yes, there will probably be loads of artsy and creative and cool people at my university, and yours too. But as for me wanting to date any of them? Not a chance."  
"Why?" Niall asked in confusion, and now Zayn was confused too, because Niall didn't understand this?  
"Because none of them are you." he said simply. "None of them are my Niall. I'd want to date you in college if you went to a university on the bloody moon. Being in the same city would just make things a million times easier." 

Niall beamed, flopping down on Zayn's chest in contentment. Zayn rubbed his hand up and down Niall's back, closing his eyes. He tucked his face into Niall's neck, feeling their heartbeats synch up and wondering if anyone had ever felt so at peace.  
"You know, I think the stars aligned just right, for once in my life, and led me to you." Niall whispered into Zayn's ear, his lips tickling his skin. "Happy Valentine's Day, petal."

 

When Zayn got home that night, Louis was waiting on his front porch for him. Zayn saw him as soon as he pulled into his driveway, recognizing his sillouhette in the moonlight. Zayn stepped off his bike, bracing himself as he took of his helmet and pads. He was either about to be screamed at for going to see Harry and not coming to Louis' side tonight, or about to become a human Kleenex. Either way, what was about to happen was going to be emotional. 

Zayn slowly walked up his driveway, climbing up the porch steps and turning right, where Louis was sitting in a chair. He was just perched there, looking out at the road, his expression surprisingly clear. There was no way he could've missed Zayn getting home, but Zayn cleared his throat anyway, making his presence known. Louis looked up quickly, his brown fringe falling in front of his eyes because of the movement.  
"Hey." Zayn said plainly, pulling up the chair opposite Louis and sitting down. He sank down in the chair right away, feeling exhausted. Yes, he was bone tired, but this was obviously a conversation Louis needed to have tonight. Why else would he be here still?  
"Hiya, mate." Louis replied, his voice sounding strange. He sounded detached, like something majorly important hadn't happened today and he was about to talk to Zayn about the weather. "Have a good Valentine's with Niall?"  
"Yeah." Zayn said cautiously, knowing that anything about romance would be a dangerous place to go. "It was great. He's great."  
"I'm happy you're happy, Z." Louis said softly, casting his head downward. "If anybody deserves it, it's you and Niall."  
"I was starting to think you didn't think that, mate." Zayn replied. "Thought you didn't like us together anymore or something-"  
"You guys are wonderful together." Louis said firmly. "He lights up like the fucking sun for you, it's a great thing to see. And you like- you like gravitate towards him? I feel like I'm watching the solar system when I'm around you two." 

Zayn smiled widely, because that description was just too apt. There was no way Louis could know about Niall's constellation obsession, or the gift Zayn had gotten him, but he'd hit the nail on the head anyway. Louis saw his grin and smiled too, but sadness tinged his expression, a kind of longing for something lost. And that's what made Zayn say it.  
"Actually, we went and saw Harry tonight." Zayn continued carefully, watching Louis' reaction to the name. And what a reaction it was. Louis stiffened automatically, clenching his hands into fists on his knees. He gasped slightly, pressing a hand to his mouth, and then shook himself, looking back at Zayn while trying to contorted his expression into anything but anguish.  
"Yeah?" he asked, his voice wavering as he looked at his fingernails. Zayn looked there too, and saw that they were bitten down to the skin, rubbed raw and red. Classic Louis. "So you know, then."  
"I do."  
"Do you hate me?" he asked, his tone too high. "Do you hate me for what I did? How I handled it?"  
"I don't." Zayn responded gently, and Louis tipped his head back, sniffing as he held back tears. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself, and then spoke again.  
"But he does." he said, and Zayn could see his entire body trembling. "Harry hates me, and he should. He has every right to." 

Zayn shut his eyes, preparing himself for the blow he was about to deliver. So, Harry had been right about Louis' motives. He'd been trying to make the other boy hate him, to hurt him so badly that hate was the only emotion Harry would ever feel for Louis Tomlinson again. Except it hadn't worked. Harry's heart was too true, too constant, even when broken. 

"Zayn." Louis said hollowly, looking at him with desperate eyes and reaching for him with desperate hands. "Tell me he said he hates me. Tell me he said that." 

And Zayn really wished he could. But he couldn't lie, because Louis had already lied to himself- and to Harry- enough in the course of their relationship. It was time for him to hear some truth, even if it hurt.  
"Harry said he loves you, Louis." 

Louis jolted in his seat, almost falling out of it. He let out a broken sob, the facade of his expression finally cracking. He stumbled over to Zayn on shaky legs, throwing himself at Zayn and hoping he caught him. Zan opened his arms and let Louis fall into them, holding him tightly. Louis was shuddering against Zayn's chest, his entire body rocking with his despair. He couldn't catch his breath, letting out infrequent little gasps, and Zayn just held him, not knowing how to make it better. Only one person would know how to do that. And right now, he was locked in his own room, doing the exact same thing.  
"What did I do?" Louis choked out, gulping for air. "What did I do, Zayn, _what did I do_?" 

And Zayn didn't respond to that question, because he was pretty sure Louis already knew the answer. Today, Valentine's Day, Louis had broken two hearts in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any good? I can't write intimate scenes at all, I know XD 
> 
> P.S.- you might wanna brace yourselves for the next chapter XD


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay here we go. It took forever and I cried a lot and it's not good but here we go.

When Zayn walked into the art room on a Tuesday afternoon in the end of February, he didn't expect to see his art teacher in a bikini and covered from top to toe in paint, but really, he shouldn't have been surprised. This was Ms. Waverly, remember: she's a bit of an odd duck. Zayn walked fully into the art room, tossing his backpack onto a chair and and looking more closely at his teacher. Her entire body is painted, each limb a different color of the rainbow. Through the paint, he can see her myraid tattoos, patterned around her entire body. Because she's so scantily clothed, he sees tats he's never seen before, and she definitely has more than Zayn had thought: butterflies in flight on both her hip bones, cursive writing inscribed across her ribs, and Zayn's favourite, angel wings along her back. The feathers go from the middle of her back, all the way to her shoulders, and each feather is a different color. Zayn doesn't want to think about how long that tattoo took. The pain of it must've been excruciating. 

"Hi." Ms Waverly said simply, catching sight of him as she smothered more blue paint over her toned abdomen.   
"Hi there." Zayn responded hesitantly, wondering what the fuck was going on. "What'cha doing?"   
"There was a huge sale on finger paint. I might've gone sorta nuts, because bargains are rad, then I decided that it shouldn't be limited to finger paint. Thus, Full Out Body Paint by Wren Waverly was born. Wanna join in?"   
At Zayn's face, she laughs, bringing a red hand to her yellow face and accidentally blending the colors.   
"Better not, I'd definitely get fired if somebody walked in here and saw us in our knickers painting."  
"Honestly, Ms. W, you'll probably get fired if somebody walks in here and sees you doing this all by yourself." Zayn admitted, and she chuckled, shaking her head.   
"Nobody ever comes in here, Malik. The arts are forgotten by basically everyone in this school, except you and I."   
"You and I." Zayn repeated with a smile, liking the phrase. "Well, thanks for the offer, but I think I'm just gonna sit here and sketch, if that's alright." 

Ms. Waverly nodded and Zayn sloped over to his backpack, pulling out his sketchbook. Tugging out a chair, he sank down into it, grabbing a pencil from the tin in the middle of the table. He flipped the book to a fresh page and pressed the lead to it, unsure of what to do. Ms. Waverly glanced at him as she threw herself down on a fresh canvas on the floor, staining it with the paint on her body.   
"That better be for your portfolio, Z." Ms. Waverly said as she rolled to the right, using her slight frame to spread the paint around. She'll probably start making snow angels in it next. "Because the last time I checked, it was as bare as a bag of bones."   
"Not true, there's four pieces in there." Zayn corrected her, but he did know that what she said was true: his portfolio was barren, and with the spring (and final) term of school set to start next week, he's beginning to panic a bit. He'd added two more drawings to the folder over the last few weeks, one being a detailed, blue-ink drawing of Niall's eyes, and the other being a pencil picture of his smile.   
"Yeah, and they're all of the same person." Ms. Waverly said drolly, sending Zayn a pointed look as she traced patterns in the paint with her fingertips. "I get it, I do, I'm no better. I see the kid in the halls sometimes, and he's highly photogenic, I guess. Very- drawable. But unless the portfolio has a over-arching theme, it needs to be versatile. There's got to be a wide selection of art: landscapes, still life, portraits, photography, all of that."   
"Yeah, but-" Zayn said quietly, his voice faltering. "I don't want to do all of that. I just want to create him."   
"Because he's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" Ms. Waverly asked. Usually, a question like that coming from Ms. W would sound snarky and sarcastic, but it didn't. She sounded sympathetic. She sounded like she understood, which Zayn supposed, she did. So Zayn nodded, biting his bottom lip bashfully, and from where she was lying, Ms. Waverly clapped him comfortingly on the ankle, getting purple paint on the bottom of his trousers. At least she meant well. 

They were silent for a few minutes after, Zayn trying to sketch a green apple left on the table. But it was no use: he just couldn't do it. He didn't want to draw fruit, like at all. It was so boring, when he could be drawing dimples and blue eyes and blonde hair that always smells like apples...Zayn ripped the page out and crumpled the half-finished drawing in his fist, tossing it over his shoulder with a distempered huff. He could feel Ms. Waverly watching him worriedly, so he flipped another page and began again, giving into the urges. This time, he drew Niall's hands: delicate boned, long-fingered, and calloused from guitar playing. 

Zayn wished he was here. 

"You know," Ms. Waverly said conversationally as she basically did floor gymnastics on the canvas. "I did say that your portfolio could have an over-arching theme, instead of being versatile. And if it so happens that your theme is a certain Niall Horan....I think that'd be okay."   
Zayn looked at her disbelievingly, feeling his mouth hang open. He glanced at the page in front of him, toying with the dog-eared edge.   
"Wouldn't that be sorta weird?" he said hesitantly. "Like, these colleges getting tons of art of my boyfriend? Disconcerting, kinda?"   
"Well, obviously you'd have to ask Niall's permission first." she said and Zayn blanched, because no, that's definitely not something he wants to do. Niall would probably break up with him in the spot, and then file a restraining order. "But as for the schools, you're brilliant enough of an artist that any school would be tripping over themselves to have you. And Niall is clearly your muse, and people eat that shit up. Look at Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter, she's in all his films."   
"They broke up." Zayn pointed out, and Ms. Waverly silenced him with a shake of her head and a languid wave of her hand.   
"I digress. What I'm saying is, we can make this work for you, because I'm getting your arse to art school if it kills me." she said, and Zayn chuckled, reaching over to the sketchbook and carefully tearing out the page.   
"So how do you suggest I do this?" he asked, going to his teacher from guidance. Ms. Waverly sat up, grabbing a towel hanging on the back of a chair and wiping paint out of her eyes. She eased herself up until she was standing, going to get Zayn's portfolio. He hurriedly took it from her, not wanting fresh paint over everything, and then spread the four pieces out flat on the table. Ms. Waverly studied them, cocking her head to the side. She tapped her fingers against her lips, pondering. Zayn waited in anxious silence, wanting her opinion but also fearing it. 

"Every piece is like...you're looking at him." she started, eyes narrowed. "There's a clear viewer in you, and a clear subject in him. It's like Niall's constantly on the move, and you're running after him, one of your hands clasped in his, and the other is scribbling, painting, doing anything to capture the moment that he's tugged you into."   
Zayn swallowed past the thick lump in his throat, looking down. Because Ms. Waverly had basically perfectly described his relationship with Niall. He remembered the night in the park, where Niall had dragged him on a wild goose chase to where they'd first met, and Zayn desperately wished he'd been able to draw that moment.   
"It's personal, Zayn." Ms. Waverly continued softly. "It's just him and you."   
"You and I." Zayn mumbled, his eyes flying open. He scrambled for his pencil, wrenching the sketchbook over to him and jotting the words down as quickly as he could. "I'm the viewer, yeah? I'm looking at him, I'm out of the picture, but I'm still there. And he's the main focus, so obviously he should be first. So, You and I. The main title of the portfolio."   
"Yes, Malik!!!" Ms. Waverly screeched excitedly, clapping her sticky hands together. "Yes, you bloody genius!!!" 

Zayn beamed so hard his cheeks hurt, because he might have a future, after all. Tossing his pencil down, he leaned back in his chair, smiling with satisfaction. He looked at the first painting of Niall and picked it up. It's messy, and hurried, and he's obviously gotten better at creating Niall since then, but maybe that's the point. They weren't properly together when he made this, and it even showed in his art: the imperfections in Niall's features, the flawed coloring of his cheeks.   
"This one should come first in the folder." Zayn decided, looking up at his teacher. "And I know that's a risk, because it's far from my best, but I feel like they should go in chronological order, almost. Like...showing show I- I learned how to create him. How I learned him."  
"And what he taught you." Ms. Waverly finished for him, and Zayn shut his eyes, because _yes_ , she understood it. At least one person understood it, understood him, and that was a start. For the first time in weeks, Zayn felt calm about his art. 

 

But then that calm was quickly broken by the rapid knocking on the art room door.   
.   
"Wren? Wren, please be in there, I have to ask you something, it's really important-"

Ms. Tissons.

Before Zayn even had time to react, Ms. Waverly hefted him out of his chair, grabbing him by the hands and hauling him over to the other side of the room. She was breathing heavily, her gasps rapid and uneven, and her eyes were wide and panicked as she looked at Zayn.   
"Get in the closet." she whispered frantically, scrambling for the closet doorknob and flinging it open. "She can't see you here, because I will bloody lose my job, indecent exposure and all that- Oh _fuck_ , she's about to see me in my _bikini_ , covered in _paint_ -"   
"Good luck!" Zayn whispered as Ms. Waverly forcibly shoved him into the closet. She stood in the open doorframe, giggling with hysteria and holding her head in one hand, the other in a deathgrip on the doorknob.  
"I can't do this, I can't, I'm going to die." she groaned miserably.   
"She's waiting for you, and she wants to see you." Zayn reminded her, gently releasing her grasp on the door. "She needs you."   
Ms. Waverly took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders back. She fixated a winning smile on her face, and for all her sudden confidence, Zayn would've believed that it was totally normal to wear paint spattered swimwear in winter. Zayn gave her a thumbs up as she shut the door, and then he hurried to press his ear against it, wanting to hear everything that happened in the two teachers' coming exchange. Not his proudest moment, granted, but c'mon, was he expected to plug his ears with clay and not listen? Not bloody likely. But then Zayn realized that there was a space between where the door ended and the hinge began, a sliver of light shining through it. Screwing up his eyes, he leaned right into the space. Sure, the view was bad, but it was a view. 

"Jenny!" Ms. Waverly boomed with false bravado as she opened the front door of the art room, stepping (and hiding) behind it as Ms. Tissons entered. The Chemistry teacher came inside, looking around herself warily. Probably wondering where the hell Ms. Waverly was.   
"Wren?" she asked, blinking owlishly. "Where'd you go?" 

Zayn could almost feel the art teacher steeling herself to appear into view. Ms. Waverly stepped out from behind the door, her arms hanging limply by her sides. Ms. Tissons turned at the sound, and honestly, her reaction was probably the funniest thing Zayn has ever seen. At the sight of Ms. Waverly, her mouth flew open, and she covered it with her hand. Zayn could see her entire face reddening with a blush, and she stumbled away from the art teacher, banging into the table behind her. She knocked over a chair, and it fell to the ground with a clatter.   
"Oh goodness gracious!" she gasped, scrambling to right the chair. "I'm so sorry, you just surprised me- I don't expect- ah- I didn't think-"   
"Neither did I, really." Ms. Waverly said with a weak smile, clearly trying to put her back at ease. "I bought finger paint on a whim, and then this happened. But I'm nuts, which you know." 

Ms. Tissons stared hopelessly at her friend, shaking her head affectionately. The contrast between the two teachers in that moment was great: Staid Ms. Tissons, wearing a jumper, skirt, stockings, and pumps, with her natural blonde hair in a neat braid, right next to chaotic Ms. Waverly, painted and bare, wild-eyed and wild-haired. They were both beautiful, but in entirely opposite ways. Serenity and chaos. Fact and feeling. Science and Art. Zayn wanted to draw them so badly. 

"Aren't you cold?" Ms. Tissons burst out, her eyes flicking up and down Ms. W's form. She reddened some more, her gaze widening as she took in all the tattoos. "You've got more tattoos than I realized."   
"Yeah." Ms. Waverly said with a shrug. "Started when I was fifteen, and then I didn't really stop. I just got a new one a couple weeks ago, wanna see?"   
Ms. Tissons nodded shyly, and Ms. Waverly grinned, turning on her heels. She extended her arms over her head, the muscles of her back and shoulders rippling. She waved the painted limbs up and down slightly, and if you squinted, it looked like wings flapping. Zayn heard Ms. Tisson's breath catch and she reached up, grazing her thumb along one of the blue feathers, so lightly that Zayn doubted Ms. Waverly even felt it. The Chemistry teacher's expression was borderline reverent as she looked at Ms. W. She chewed down on the inside of her cheek, her pupils dilated and- oh. 

_Oh._

Zayn knew that expression. It was nearly identical to the look Niall had on his face when he saw Zayn shirtless on Valentine's Day. 

Ms. Tissons was attracted to Ms. Waverly. 

Zayn clapped a hand to his mouth and fought back a screech, because that realization just made things a million times more complicated and a million times more interesting. Obviously, Zayn couldn't determine the depth of Ms. Tissons' attraction, and honestly, most people with eyes would have some flutterings over the art teacher's body, but it seemed almost too coincidental. Zayn peered back at the two of them, and yeah, yeah, she's definitely ogling Ms. Waverly right now, her wide blue eyes going over the other woman's form again and again. But Ms. W, oblivious to a fault, wasn't noticing, and Zayn wanted to beat his head against the wall. Had he and Niall been this frustrating?  
"It bloody killed me to get done, of course." Ms. Waverly said cheerily, "I haven't slept on my back since-"   
"Ah, yeah, I'm sure!" Ms. Tissons babbled suddenly, obviously not wanting the conversation to go anywhere near Ms. Waverly' sleeping patterns. Zayn almost giggled with joy because she's whipped, she's whipped and so was Ms. Waverly, and Zayn wanted them together right that very second. "So, uh, Wren...there's something I wanted to talk to you about." 

Zayn really hoped that Ms. Waverly wouldn't have a heart attack, because his own heart was racing, so he didn't even want to think about hers. What on earth could she want to say? _"Yeah, Wren, I've left my asshole fiancée, and I'd love to make beautiful creative chemist babies with you. In fact, I just love you in general. Wanna snog on the art table now?_ " Maybe Zayn's already overactive imagination was going wild, but man, he longed for it to be something along those lines. Even if she only said that she'd left the jerky fiancée, and Zayn didn't even want that for Ms. Waverly' sake, but for her own. Ms. Tissons was truly a lovely person, and she shouldn't tie herself to a dickhead who cheated on her. So, Zayn crossed his fingers and hoped for the best. 

"Yeah, yeah, shoot." Ms. Waverly said, and Zayn could hear the slight tremor in her voice. Ms. Tissons shut her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. She opened them again and looked back at the art teacher, her gaze clear.   
"Derek and I set a date." she said brightly, far brighter than Zayn expected her to be. "For the wedding."   
"Oh!" Ms. Waverly responded, turning and looking down at the art table, sweeping up the scattered pencils in her hand and dropping them back into the tin. "How lovely. When- when is it?"   
"July 10."   
"That's a good day." Ms. W said awkwardly, and Zayn saw her hand clenched into a fist. "Hope I'm at the very top of the guest list! I expect no less, you know."   
"Well, that's just it, Wren." Ms. Tissons said, grabbing for her friend's hands and holding them both. Zayn felt his heart leap at the action, feeling the electricity between the two of them. "I was actually wondering if you'd like to be more than the top of the guest list. The chief bridesmaid, to be specific." 

Ms. Waverly's mouth fell open at that, and she stared at the Chemistry teacher, gobsmacked. She blinked rapidly a few times, shaking her head in disbelief and bringing a hand to her mouth to bite at the nails.   
"Jenny, I- I can't." she said hoarsely. "Me, be a bridesmaid? The head bridesmaid? Leading all the other ones? I'm not cut out for that, just look at me!"   
Ms. Waverly looked down at her paint spattered body, eyes wild and imploring, like she was begging the Chemistry teacher to listen to her.   
"I'd fuck something up, Jen. I'd get paint on the dress, or I'd show up to the reception stoned, or I'd trip going up the aisle because I've never been able to wear heels." she said, almost hysterically. "I'd destroy your wedding, honest to Christ, I would. Don't put that kind of pressure at me, Jenny, please don't-"  
"But-" Ms. Tissons started feebly, her voice meek. She cleared it and began again, bringing a dainty hand to her throat. She looked back at Ms. Waverly steadily, keeping a firm grip on her left hand.   
"You're my best friend." she said simply. "You're the best friend I've ever had. You were the first person that was nice to me in this blasted school. Some days, the only reason I smile during work is because of something you've said or done. I don't- I don't think I''ll be able to walk up that aisle without knowing that you've marched up it ahead of me and you're waiting up there." 

Ms. Waverly was faltering, her tense body slowly relaxing. She patted Ms. Tisson's hand comfortingly, looking unsure. The Chemistry teacher seemed to sense the cracks in her resolve, because she looked at her hopefully, her bottom lip sliding out into a pout.   
"You wouldn't trip." she said with a faint smile. "You don't have to wear heels: we can put you in those black Converse you love so much."   
"I dunno, Jenny-" Ms. Waverly said, running a hand through her hair and tugging at it.   
"Please say you'll do it." Ms. Tissons pleaded. "Please."   
That was all it took. Ms. Waverly sighed, hanging her head. She inhaled shallowly, nibbling on her bottom lip, and then gave a single, firm nod. Yes. 

Ms. Tissons squealed and threw her arms around Ms. Waverly, jumping up and down excitedly. Ms. Waverly clung back to her, and Zayn saw her hands shaking.   
"Oh, Wren, thank you!!!" Ms. Tissons gasped happily. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is so exciting, you're gonna look so lovely in whatever dress we choose, oh my goodness-"  
"I'll-I'll do my upmost not to get paint on it." Ms. Waverly joked dryly, and Ms. Tissons beamed, hugging her tighter and burying her face in the crook of the art teacher's neck.   
"You won't regret it, I promise." she whispered faintly, pulling back from Ms. Waverly. And then, she was leaning up on her tip-toes, pressing her lips gently to the skin of Ms. W's cheek. Ms. Tissons gave her one more sunny smile as she jolted away, and then she was gone, running out the art room door with a wave and a soft "See you later, Wren!" 

 

The room went deadly silent once the door shut behind the Chemistry teacher. Zayn slowly crept out of the closet, glancing over at his teacher. Ms. Waverly was standing on her canvas, her back to Zayn as she stared at the door. One of her arms was wrapped around her bare stomach, and the other was brought to her face, her hand cupping the cheek Ms. Tissons had kissed.   
"Ms. W?" Zayn said quietly, gently. He treaded slowly towards her, his heart pounding. He really doubted everything was okay with her, after that conversation. Now the poor thing had to stand right next to her best friend, the girl she loved, as she married a man who treated her like shit. And Ms. Waverly couldn't do anything about it. 

The art teacher turned on her heels, her chin ducked down on her chest. Slowly, Ms. Waverly raised her head to look at Zayn, and her brown eyes swam with unshed tears. She reached a hand out to Zayn, still holding her cheek with the other. Ms. Waverly took a shaky breath, digging her nails into her skin. She blinked back tears, muttering a quiet curse under her breath.   
"She's marrying him, Zayn." Ms. Waverly whispered at last, her voice breaking. "She's really marrying him, and I'm gonna have to be there for every single bloody moment of it. She's marrying him."   
Slowly, Ms. Waverly sank down to her knees, rocking herself back and forth. Letting out a choked sob, she weakly beat at the canvas beneath her with her fists, smudging the half-dry paint. She gasped quickly, clawing at it with her blunt fingernails, like she suddenly wanted no color left.   
"She kissed me." she said brokenly, gulping loudly. "She kissed me, and I thought- I thought...Oh god, she's marrying him, she'll never be mine, I love her and _she's marrying him_!"

Ms. Waverly broke. She wept bitterly, furiously, not trying to hide her tears anymore. Tearing at the canvas, she sobbed brokenheartedly, keening low in her throat. Zayn just stood there, unsure of what to say. He wanted to say he'd seen how Ms. Tissons looked at her. He wanted to say how the chemistry between them had been palpable. He wanted to say that the bride had been more excited about adding Ms. Waverly to her bridal party than her wedding itself. There were so many things Zayn wanted to say, but he couldn't, because the plain fact remained that Ms. Tissons was marrying someone, and it wasn't Ms. Waverly. So he just stood there, looking down at his mentor as she cried, her beautiful angel wings heaving with every sob. 

 

Late that evening, Zayn called Niall. He was curled up in bed, flipping idly through a comic book on his lap. Mulling over the events of the day, he thought that everybody's love life seemed to be in a total shambles at the moment. Harry and Louis had barely interacted since Valentine's Day, he had no idea about Liam and Sophia (Li didn't talk much about them in general), and with the newest drama in his teachers' lives, Zayn just wanted to check that his own love life was alright. Not that anything bad had happened, but he just wanted to be on the safe side and check. He and Niall hadn't talked a lot over the last few days, and all Zayn wanted in that moment was to hear his voice. So, Zayn pulled out his phone and went to his contacts, not even needing to look: he knew Niall was at the very top. 

Two rings. No answer. Zayn bit down on his thumbnail, and then flung the hand away, recognizing the bad habit of Niall's in himself. He leaned back on the pillows and shut his eyes, hoping Niall answered soon. Obviously, he wouldn't bombard his phone with calls and texts, so he resolved to just let it be if Niall didn't pick up. It's not like Zayn needed anything in particular. 

Four rings. Still no answer. Zayn felt worry twist his stomach in a knot, because usually, Niall answered within seconds of Zayn calling. It was really endearing, actually, how eager Niall always was to talk to him. They didn't talk on the phone much, but when they did, the conversations would go on for hours. They'd talk about everything and nothing at all, and Zayn thought that they almost ended a third dimension. A private cellular space where it was just their two voices and some wires connecting them. 

Six rings. Niall still wasn't picking up, and Zayn frowned, bringing the phone in front of him and checking to make sure he'd dialed the correct number. Yep, it was definitely Niall, his silly profile picture making Zayn smile despite himself. It was a selfie that Niall had taken a few weeks back, after he nicked Zayn's phone from his pocket without his noticing. He'd been wearing a SnapBack at the time, reversed so the back was in the front, and he was sticking his tongue out, dimples in the hollows of his cheeks. Zayn adored the picture, and even though Niall had pleaded with him to delete it, he refused and then, to embarrass him further, made it his profile. He'd probably never change it, to be honest. 

Eight rings. No answer. 

"Hiya! Niall Horan here! I'm not at the phone right now, but if you leave me a message, I'll get back to ya as quick as possible. You know what to do." 

Zayn blinked stupidly as he realized that that was Niall's voicemail. He'd never heard it before, because Niall had never not answered. Frowning slightly, Zayn waited for the beep, wracking his brains to figure out what he wanted to say. It beeped and Zayn opened his mouth, shutting his eyes in thought.   
"Hi Niall." he started, his voice croaky and weak. "I- uh- I had a bit of a rough day, and uh- just fancied a chat, I suppose. Wanted to hear your voice, I guess. But I'm gonna assume you're asleep, cuz it's late....so, if you are, I hope you have lovely dreams, and that you sleep well, and I'll speak to you tomorrow morning at school. G'night, Niall." 

With a heavy sigh, Zayn ended the voicemail, closing his phone and resting it on his chest. He stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, firmly ignoring the wetness in his eyes. Clenching his bedspread in his fists, he turned so he was on his side, the mobile sliding off his sternum and lying, forgotten, on the mattress. Zayn shut his eyes, feeling disgruntled and sad and achingly lonely.   
"He's probably just asleep." Zayn whispered, his voice loud in the silence of the room. "He wouldn't ignore me, Niall's not like that, he's not." 

But why hadn't he answered? Niall generally kept his phone near his bedside, so wouldn't it have woken him up when it rang? Zayn tried to think of something he could've done to make Niall ignore him, but he couldn't come up with anything. Was Niall okay? Maybe today was a bad day for him too, and he just wanted some time to himself, which Zayn could understand. They weren't that co-dependent. But....Zayn wished he would've answered anyway. 

Grabbing the phone again, Zayn swiped to his text messages and quickly typed out one to his boyfriend. He sent it before he could doubt himself too much, and then shoved the phone under his pillow, right where he could feel it. Just in case it vibrated while he slept. And then Zayn drifted off into an uneasy sleep, stomach clenched with anxiety, heart sore from loneliness, and the words of his last text reverberating in his head.   
"Hey, babe. Hope you're okay. Text me if you need anything, like, anything at all. Alright? Night, sunshine." 

But there was no answer, and over the next three days, there continued to be no answer. When Zayn went into school on Wednesday morning, Niall wasn't there. He wasn't in for the remainder of the week, and whenever Zayn tried contacting him, he didn't respond. By Friday night, Zayn was nearly out of his mind with worry. It was like Niall had literally dropped off the face of the Earth, and just the thought gave Zayn heart palpitations. Was he sick? Had he gone on a random vacation and forgot to mention it to Zayn? Was he bunking off school for some reason? With every passing day, Zayn thought of more and more possibilities, each one stressing him out more than the last. What was up with his boy? 

He considering bolting out of the house and driving to Niall's as fast as possible, just to check that he was okay and not lying dead in a ditch somewhere, but then decided against it. Niall was a private guy, and maybe he just needed some alone time: Zayn didn't wanna be a clingy boyfriend that didn't let him do anything by himself. So Zayn just sat on his couch all of Friday night, watching _the Avengers_ and ignoring the fact that his phone hadn't light up with Niall's name in four days. He clasped a pillow to his chest and pushed his face into it, imagining it was Niall. If he concentrated hard enough, Zayn could almost smell his apple shampoo. 

 

At seven o'clock on Saturday, March 3rd, Zayn woke up to his phone ringing. More accurately, Zayn woke up to his phone blaring right into his eardrum, it's volume on its highest setting. He'd fallen asleep on the bloody thing and now it was screaming Nirvana in his ear. 

_"With the lights out, it's less dangerous. Here we are now, entertain us. I feel stupid and contagious. Here we are now, entertain us_..." Kurt Cobain screeched and Zayn winced, sitting up and removing his ear away from the speaker. He's trying to have an appreciation for this music, he really was, but what's wrong with some simple pop? After discovering that Zayn had a hidden appreciation for Katy Perry, Niall had made this song his personal ringtone-

Niall's ringtone. 

And then Zayn was almost toppling off his bed in his haste to answer the phone and shut Nirvana the fuck up, because if he fucking missed this call, he'd never forgive himself. He shoved his hand under his pillow and grabbed his mobile, feeling his hand tremble as he looked at the screen. Niall's silly profile pic was there, Zayn hadn't imagined this call, after five days of silence Niall was contacting him, and Zayn hit "Answer" so hard that he might've cracked the screen. 

"Niall," Zayn said as the call connected, hearing the relief in his voice. "Hi. How're you doing? You good, babe?"   
"Hello, Zayn." a voice answered, and Zayn's heart instantly plummeted, feeling his blood turn to ice. Because it wasn't Niall's voice, it was Mr. Horan's. And if Niall's father was reaching out to Zayn, not the boy, then something must be really wrong. Wrong enough that Niall wasn't mentally or physically capable of contacting Zayn himself. Zayn felt sweat erupt over his entire body, and he rested his forehead on his hand, trying to take steady breaths and not hyperventilate.   
"Mr. Horan." he said, licking his dry lips. "What's the matter? What's wrong with Niall?" 

Zayn heard Mr. Horan give a small sigh through the phone, preparing himself to speak, and he clutched his mobile tighter to his ear. Zayn pressed a hand to his stomach, swallowing hard. He felt nauseous with anxiety, couldn't take another moment of waiting to hear what the fuck was happening.   
"Please, Mr. Horan." he downright begged, shutting his eyes. "Tell me." 

_Oh my god oh my god oh my god. Niall's dead or he's diagnosed with some terminal illness or they're moving back to Ireland. Let him be okay let him be okay oh god please let him be okay, don't be fucking dead you can't be dead, I'll die if you're dead...What happened to you why haven't you been talking to me I'm gonna get sick, don't be dead don't be dead, please don't be dead Niall._

"Niall is currently locked in his bathroom, refusing to come out." Mr. Horan began carefully, and Zayn collapsed on his bed, feeling his body quake because Niall's fucking okay. "He's been in there all morning, and today is a bad day for both of us, this entire week has been god-awful, honestly (which is why I kept him off school)....And part of me would just let him have his space today, of all days, but given his past with... _things_....I need to get him out of there, and I've been trying all morning, but he won't budge-"   
Zayn understood about one-fourth of that sentence, but it didn't even matter because Niall was okay. Clearly going through some emotional trouble, but he's okay. Zayn pressed his hand to his heart, feeling it pound beneath his fingers and willing it to calm down.   
"What do you need me to do?" he heard himself babble into the phone. "You called me for a reason: what is it?"   
"Can you come here and help me talk him out of the bathroom?" Mr. Horan said at last, sounded defeated. "He simply won't leave it for me, but for you...he might."   
"Yeah, yeah, sure." Zayn said, bounded out of bed and almost slamming into his closed bedroom door. "On my way."   
"This might not be pretty, Zayn." Mr. Horan cautioned. "He's a wreck, and I'm sure you know why, so just- brace yourself, yeah?"   
"Of course." Zayn responded, nodding even though Bobby couldn't see him. He barely knew what he was saying at this point: he just wanted to be wherever Niall was. 

So, Zayn hung up the phone soon after, throwing on whatever clothes that were within two feet of him. He ran downstairs and left the house without saying goodbye to anyone, forgetting his knee and elbow pads on the countertop. And as Zayn drove to the Horan's house, breaking every traffic law imaginable as he went, it didn't even occur to him that he actually didn't know why Niall was a wreck today. 

 

Mr. Horan took one look at Zayn and sat him down in the kitchen for a strong cup of tea. Apparently not only the English think it's the cure for every possible ailment. Zayn sank into a kitchen chair, looking as Mr. Horan busied himself by the kettle. He offered to help, but the older man swatted him away, saying,   
"Would you sit, son? You look like you're going to collapse any second now, all pale and shaky."   
Looking at his reflection in the toaster, Zayn had to admit he had a point. His normally tan skin was ashen, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His eyes were wide and frantic, looking around everywhere. He looked maybe a step away from a nervous breakdown. Tea might just be a necessity. 

The kettle whistled and Mr. Horan quickly poured them a cup each, crossing the kitchen and handing Zayn his mug. Milk and sugar were on the table, so Zayn reached for it, pouring in some milk. He then added three spoonfuls of sugar, before he realized that that's not how he took his tea: it's how Niall took his. Zayn always teased him that it was more sugar and milk than tea leaves, and then Niall always would try to toss an extra sugar cube into Zayn's tea...

Zayn hurriedly grabbed the handle of his teacup to hide the tremors of his hands and took a hasty gulp of the drink. It's far too sweet, making his teeth ache, but he continued drinking it away, looking around himself as he did so. The kitchen was darkly light, the curtains drawn to stop light coming in from the window above the sink. In fact, the entire house seemed dark today: Zayn had thought so as soon as he'd pulled up outside it. All the shutters were closed, and the door had been tightly locked. The entire place permeated with a feeling of acute sadness, delving from the inside outward, and it'd take more than a cup of tea to make that go away. 

Mr. Horan pulled out the chair opposite Zayn and sat down, sighing as his knees clicked. He put his teacup down on the table and rested his chin on his palm, studying the boy in front of him. Zayn couldn't meet his gaze, so he looked at his knees, tapping his nails against the china of his cup.   
"Thank you for coming, Zayn." Mr. Horan said, his voice weaker than Zayn expected.   
"No problem, Mr. Horan." Zayn responded. "I wanna be here for him, you know that...He's upstairs, then?"   
Zayn glanced above his head, wondering if Niall could hear them. He looked back at Mr. Horan, taking in the man's expression for the first time. He looked utterly exhausted, his normally shining blue eyes dull and heavy bags in his skin. His clothes were rumpled, as if he'd slept in them, and as Zayn looked lower, he saw that Mr. Horan's hands were clenched around his own teacup, tighter than Zayn's.   
"Are you okay, Mr. Horan?" Zayn asked gently, feeling his eyes widen. "You look wrecked, to be honest."   
Mr. Horan opened his mouth to speak, as if to shoo away Zayn's cautions with words, but then he closed it again. Pressing his lips together tightly, he shook his head, gulping hard. Letting out a gasp, he shuddered and passed a hand over his face, pinching his nose.   
"No, Zayn, no I'm not." he said at last. "It's such a bad day for both of us...March 3rd. Worst day of my life, and Niall's too. He feels it so much, he misses her so much-"   
Mr. Horan's voice broke and he looked down, grabbing a napkin from the table and dabbing at his wet eyes. Zayn reached over and briefly gripped the older man's elbow, trying to give him some silent support, and Mr. Horan patted his hand gratefully, sniffling.   
"Niall misses his mother." he said, tearing at the napkin in his fingers and not looking at Zayn. "I miss his mother, I miss her so much it takes my breath away...But he misses her in a way I'll never truly understand, and today..." 

Here, Mr. Horan paused, swallowing again. He swiped at the tears running freely down his face and ran a hand through his greying hair, sighing tiredly. Zayn somehow wound up gripping both his hands, so he held on tight, leaning down to try and read the man's expression. It was almost inscrutable, but he could make out one primary emotion: desolation. Mr. Horan was desolate. 

And Zayn was confused. He knew that divorces were shit, and not getting to see a parent could fuck a kid up in a variety of ways. (i.e. Louis Tomlinson) And that a spouse could feel some lingering sadness over a failed marriage. But usually, families of divorce recover moderately soon, He didn't know how long the Horan's had been separated, but he'd assumed a year, at the very least. So, Zayn had figured that both Mr. Horan's and Niall's relationship with Maura had begun to heal, to some degree. But seeing Mr. Horan sitting there, and knowing that Niall was locked in the toilet upstairs, that didn't seem to be the case. 

"Mr. Horan," Zayn started carefully, hoping that the suggestion that he was about to give wouldn't anger him. "If Niall misses his mother that much, and today is as bad for him as you say....why doesn't he just call her?" 

The reaction was immediate. Mr. Horan flung Zayn's gentle hands away and dragged himself out of his chair, stumbling backwards from the table. He- He was _glaring_ at Zayn, his face pinched and furious. Zayn automatically shrunk down in his seat, cowed beneath his angry gaze. So, calling Niall's mother clearly wasn't an option.   
"I don't think that's at all appropriate, Zayn." Mr. Horan said, his tone icy. "In fact, I find it quite ignorant of you to say. Downright hurtful. How on earth could Niall call his mother? That's the thing he wants most, and he- he can't." 

Mr. Horan choked and broke off, shaking his head. Zayn felt like his head been slammed between a revolving door. Maura lived in Ireland, didn't she? The next country over, not exactly Narnia. Why couldn't he call her? Unless it was for some custody battle and terms of the divorce had been that Niall couldn't contact his mother at all. Whatever the reason, Zayn had to fix things, and he had to fix them quickly, before Mr. Horan dumped the remaining water in the kettle over his head.   
"I'm sorry if that was insensitive, Mr. Horan." he amended, keeping his voice neutral, despite the hurt he felt from the man's harsh words. "I just thought- thought maybe it'd be a possibility, if only Niall's mother could make things better for him today. I know- I know you guys had a divorce, and there's probably some residual feelings from that, on both sides-"   
"What?" Mr. Horan said sharply, his breath catching. "What did you say, Zayn?" 

Zayn fell silent, gulping in fear. Mr. Horan was staring at him with burning intensity, his eyes manic. Zayn gripped the edge of the table, bowing his head and breaking eye contact. What had happened to the friendly Mr. Horan Zayn had always seen before? This is obviously an awful day for the Horan family, but Zayn never would've thought he could be this abrasive about anything.  
"The divorce." Zayn said feebly. "I said that I know you and your wife are divorced, and Niall has a lot of anger over her leaving, but- but if he needs her, can't he just call her? She wouldn't ignore him, would she?" 

Mr. Horan slowly sat down in his chair, putting his head in his hands. He took rapid breaths, pressing a fist to his mouth to stifle any sounds he was making. Zayn watched him, utterly terrified now. Slowly, Zayn stretched his hand over to the man again, touching his fist on the table. Mr. Horan jolted at the touch, and then looked at him, his face totally white.   
"He hasn't told you." he mumbled, his lips shaking. "All this time- and Niall hasn't told you- oh Jesus Christ-"   
"Told me what?" Zayn asked urgently, leaning in closer so he could hear Mr. Horan better. "What hasn't Niall told me?"   
"Zayn, you should go home." Mr. Horan babbled, his words slurring together in his rush to say them. "You need to go, you can't possibly be here and-and help him if you don't know-"   
"What don't I know?" Zayn begged, holding onto Mr. Horan's hands tighter. He felt like he was going to break, like the slightest wind could come and shatter him into a million pieces. The weight of his fear was crushing him. His boy was upstairs, hurting, and Zayn was stuck down here, his apparent ignorance keeping them apart. He needed to be upstairs, and in order for that to happen, he needed to know. 

"Niall's mother- she-" Mr. Horan whispered, licking his dry lips and bringing a hand to cover his eyes. "What about Niall's mother?" Zayn urged tenderly, keeping his tone quiet.  
"We're not divorced, Zayn." Mr. Horan said hoarsely, his voice muffled. "Mrs. Horan and I are not divorced." 

Zayn went still, his grip on Mr. Horan loosening. Niall had never explicitly said his parents were divorced, but Zayn had assumed it was too painful for him to talk about, so he didn't ask. So were they separated? Were they still married and just living apart? And that's why Niall missed her so much, because there was a chance she could come back, and she wasn't taking it? Zayn bit down on the inside of his cheek, tasting a sudden tang of blood. He shut his eyes as Mr. Horan opened his mouth to speak again. He could feel how the man was bracing himself to say whatever was coming, tensing every single muscle. So Zayn tensed too, feeling his pulse shudder along as he waited. 

"Last year, my wife was in a car accident on March 3rd. She didn't survive." 

 

Zayn was halfway up the stairs before his body realized what it was doing. He tripped on a step and fell to his knees with a thud, punching at the stairs weakly with his fists. He didn’t remember starting to cry, but now he was sobbing into the carpet, feeling his body heave. He couldn’t breathe, choking on his own spit, and he rolled over on his back, the step beneath him pressing into his spine painfully.   
“Oh my god oh my god oh my god.” Zayn chanted, feeling hysteria rise up in his chest, threatening to drown him. He wheezed, trying to draw back air, and pressed his hand to his heart. “She’s dead. She’s dead, he never told me she was dead, _why didn’t he tell me she was dead_.” 

Zayn felt like the world was crashing down around him, like the rug had literally been pulled out from under his feet and now he was spinning around without purchase, trying to find his balance. But there was nowhere to go, nothing to balance on. Everything was coming together so quickly, that the sudden clarity made Zayn dizzy. Events of the past five months were flashing through his head, all adding up to the same unspoken conclusion. As he laid there, Niall's voice was washing back over him, every single memory hurting more than the last. 

_“Petal, you better wear a helmet...I’m not attending your funeral.”_

The first time they ever hung out by themselves, in the art room. Zayn drove Niall home that night, despite him being terrified of motorcycles. And he'd said that, and Zayn just thought it was a meaningless quip, maybe something Niall said to show his growing affection. Except he meant it, he bloody meant every word of it. He'd already attended a funeral, and he wouldn't be attending another. 

_"And fuck, Zayn, sometimes I hate her. I hate her for leaving us. For leaving me...Even though I know it was for the best or whatever, I still hate her for it. And most of the time, I can go around hating her. But I can’t- I can’t do it at Christmas. Because this entire time of year reminds me of her too much. So that’s why I hate Christmas instead.”_

The last day of school before Christmas break, when Niall came out to Zayn. He'd had a meltdown over his mother not being there to cry to about it, but obviously she couldn't be there if she was dead. Zayn hadn't understood what Niall meant. Niall had never directly told him, but he'd been laying all these clues down, trying to lead him to the answer, and Zayn didn't pick up on any of them.

_“I don't want you getting hurt. I don't want anyone I care about getting hurt!”_

The fucking _pads_. He got Zayn pads for his bike as a Christmas present, but it wasn't just a genuine display of care. Niall actually thought Zayn would get into an accident, and he was trying to minimize the damage. Did Niall think that if his mother had been wearing protective gear, she would've survived? No fucking wonder he was so adamant about Zayn wearing them all the time. 

_“The first time I sang in seven months was the first day I met you all...And I just- I'm always going to be grateful for that. I found my voice because of you.”_

Niall started school in October, and October to March is exactly seven months. He didn't sing a word that whole time. Why had Zayn and his friends changed that? How had they changed that? What about them made Niall sing? 

_“Rule Three. Drive safe.”_

Oh God. Mr. Horan's rules for their first date. He probably thought that every time Niall went somewhere with Zayn, he'd never come back. Really, if Zayn was in his position, he wouldn't trust himself: a seemingly rebellious teenage boy on a motorbike. It must've been so terrifying for the man, letting Niall drive off with him. He'd already lost one person he loved to a car crash. 

Zayn felt guilt cut through him like a knife as he remembered, making him gasp. He'd kept Niall out until the early hours of the morning on their first date ever: Mr. Horan must've been ready to phone the police, thinking the boys were bleeding out on the side of the street. 

_“And since she's been gone, I haven't seen the stars dance....I don't think I've seen the stars at all.”_

Zayn let out a muffled scream into the carpet, because he bought Niall the stars. He bought Niall the star stickers and they were hanging up in his room this very second. As if that could ever make up for the loss of his mother. Zayn punched the stairs beneath him again, his knuckles aching. He was still crying, because he didn't know what the fuck had happened, why Niall didn't tell him, why he'd kept such a huge thing a secret. 

Everything before this point now felt like a lie, and Zayn felt sick with it. What else had Niall kept hidden? Was their entire relationship one big cover-up? Zayn pressed his forehead to the step, trying to breathe. He was gulping back air way too quickly, his whole chest in a tight knot, and belatedly, Zayn realized that he was panicking. He felt exactly like how Niall described having panic attacks, and he fought to calm himself further. Squeezing his hands into tight fists, he dug his nails into his palms and counted to ten slowly, wincing at the pain. But he knew he had to get a grip, because Niall was still upstairs, and it was the one-year anniversary of his mother's death, and Zayn needed to see him soon, to make sure he was perfectly fine, before he lost the little control he'd managed to hang onto. 

 

So Zayn dragged himself to his knees, crawling up the stairs and trying to hold back his tears. He got to his feet at the top of the landing, leaning heavily on the banister. His body was shaky as he moved down the corridor, his mouth like sand. He saw the closed door of the toliet and took a deep, shuddering breath as he paused outside it, shutting his eyes as he knocked.   
"Niall." he croaked, swallowing as he pressed his ear to the wood to hear better. "Niall, please, open the door." 

_Why didn't you tell me? I could've handled it, I could've helped you. Why wouldn't you let me help you?_

Zayn heard a sudden splash of water, and he narrowed his eyes in confusion, pressing his body closer to the door. He rattled the handle, trying to get it to open, but it was locked tight. Without a key, it wouldn't be budged.   
"Niall." he repeated, trying to keep his voice soothing and hide the edge of hysteria in it. "Niall, please let me in. Or you come out, it doesn't matter which. Just so you aren't by yourself."   
More silence accompanied with the sound of running water was the only answer Zayn got, and he hung his head, leaning against the door. He didn't weigh much, so it wouldn't give under his weight, but he wondered if beating it down would be an option. He was stronger than he looked, and the adrenaline of needing to get to Niall might just do the trick.   
"Niall, I know." Zayn whispered, his voice breaking now. He passed a hand over his face and quickly wiped away more tears. The last thing Niall needed was to see him upset. "Sweetheart, I know about your mum." 

The water stopped, and Zayn held his breath, wondering if Niall was coming to open the door. He stepped backward cautiously, in case he flung it wide open and nailed Zayn in the nose. But after a few seconds, it was clear that Niall wasn't coming, so Zayn moved closer again, trying to think of something, anything, to say.   
"I know, Niall, and I'm not angry. I just wanna check that you're okay. I need to see you, darling, please open the door so I can see you. And then we'll talk, yeah? About whatever you want. I'm not angry at you, Ni, I'm not. Please let me in. Please." Zayn babbled, not even sure what he was saying. He'd say whatever it took for Niall to unlock this fucking door. 

_Please._

Zayn heard the quiet pad of Niall's feet against the floor. Two more seconds of waiting and then- then the lock clicked. The door was open. Zayn blinked in shock for a few seconds, because honestly, he hadn't expected it to be that simple. And then he was staggering forward, shoving both his palms squarely on the door and flinging it open. His heart was hammering beneath his shirt, and he gulped back a breath as he entered the bathroom, preparing himself for whatever scene was about to meet his eyes. 

Niall stood in the middle of the bathroom floor, his arms wrapped around his stomach and his head bowed, chin touching his chest. With a start, Zayn realized he was soaking wet, water running down from his hair and his clothes clinging to his skinny frame. Had he jumped into the shower fully clothed? Shivering violently, Niall curled in on himself, hunching his shoulders. He pinched the bones of his elbows, hissing in a breath. His skin looked almost blue: How long had he been like this?

"I just wanted a bath." Niall choked out, still unable to look at Zayn. "Because she- she always used to give me baths when I was upset. I filled the tub and everythin', and then I tripped and fell in. And- and I couldn't get out again."   
Zayn hesitantly took a step closer, reaching out a shaking hand towards Niall. He looked so cold, and Zayn just wanted to grab him, tug him into his arms and hold him until all the cold went away, and took all the pain with it. But as Niall shied away from Zayn's outstretched hand, he knew that wasn't a possibility.   
"Niall." Zayn whispered, making the boy jump. His head snapped up, and Zayn was hit with the full intensity of his gaze. His blue eyes were enormous and miserable, tear-stained and raw. His mouth was trembling with the effort it took not to cry. "Why don't you go get changed?"   
"She must've been so cold." Niall whispered, his eyes unseeing. He was far away, so wrapped up in his head that Zayn had no idea how to pull him out. He was somewhere else entirely: a place with his mum, a collision, and pain. So much pain. "She was lying on the side of the street, and it was pouring rain, like it always is in Mullingar, and it took- it took the paramedics an hour to find her. There was so much wreckage, and she was- she- she was underneath it all." 

Niall gasped, his body being wracked with tremors. He clamped a hand to his mouth, letting out a dry sob. Swaying on his feet, he scrabbled for the sink, gripping it so tightly that his fingers turned white. Zayn took a small step closer, worried he was going to collapse and wanting to be there to catch him if he did.   
"It's been a year." Niall mumbled. "A whole year, and I've been happy without her. Not all the time, but I've definitely been happy. How- how is that even possible? My mother is dead and I've been happy without her. I shouldn't have been- I can't possibly have been-" 

Niall's eyelids fluttered, and through his peripheral vision, Zayn saw his grip on the sink go lax. Suddenly, his knees gave out and Zayn lunged forward, holding him up by the elbows. Niall tumbled into him, leaning on his chest. He'd gone still, his limp arms draped across Zayn's shoulders, and he was staring up at Zayn, silently crying.   
"How was I ever happy without her?" 

_With me. You were happy with me. I know you were._

Zayn didn't respond, holding Niall tighter. The boy's whole body felt numb, his skin beneath Zayn's warm hands frigid. Niall was shivering again, his teeth chattering together as he used Zayn's body to keep himself up. Zayn put an arm around his waist, holding Niall to him with ease, and then he tenderly ran his hand through Niall's hair, pulling the wet strands away from his face. But Niall didn't lean into the caress like he normally would, keeping himself stiff.   
"Niall." Zayn whispered gently, cupping his pale cheek and rubbing his thumb back and forth to get the rosy pinkness to return. "Niall, if you let me, I'll bring you to your room and help you get changed, yeah? You're wringing wet, and it's cold in here, and you might get sick. Please let me help." 

They stood in silence for a few moments, not speaking. Niall was blinking up at Zayn, expressionless, and Zayn thought he was going to send him away. But slowly, his arms tightened around Zayn's shoulders, his damp fingers nipping at Zayn's skin. He gave one shaky nod, trying to move forward. Niall fumbled over his two feet, almost toppling over, but Zayn caught him again, pressing the lightest of kisses to the top of his head.   
"I can carry you." he whispered into Niall's hair, and he nodded again, slowly slinging a skinny arm around Zayn's neck. Zayn leaned down and put his arm underneath Niall's knees, standing back up once he was secure. He stood there, holding Niall bridal-style, for a couple seconds. Niall tucked his head into Zayn's neck, dampening the collar of his shirt with his tears. Niall's side was pressed right into Zayn's chest, and Zayn could feel the chill from his wet clothes already.   
"Zayn." Niall whimpered helplessly. "I'm so cold, Zayn. Do you think she was this cold?"   
"I don't know, darling." Zayn responded as he started to walk out of the toliet. "But it's gonna be okay soon. I'll make it okay, I promise." 

 

Out in the hallway, Mr. Horan was standing by the banister, waiting for them. He looked at Zayn guiltily as they approached, biting down on his bottom lip. His eyes followed Niall as they moved, worry for his son pooled deep within them. Zayn carefully stepped past him, heading towards Niall's room, and the older man followed dutifully.   
"I'm sorry." he mumbled apologetically in Zayn's ear, on his left side so Niall wouldn't hear him. "For leaving you alone with him. But- you seemed to be doing a good job at calming him and- and I was so worried that I was going to see something worse if I went in there." 

Zayn couldn't really think of anything worse than this, so he stayed quiet and continued towards the bedroom. Kicking the door open with his foot, he slipped inside, Niall unmoving in his arms. Zayn treaded towards the bed and gently laid Niall down on it. He paused to graze his fingertips down Niall's cheek, just to touch him somehow, and then turned to go to Niall's wardrobe. As he walked away, Zayn looked up at the ceiling, his heart lurching at the stars. Did Niall think of this day every time he looked at the nighttime sky?

Mr. Horan was already getting dry clothes out for Niall: a cotton T-shirt and woolen, checkered pajama bottoms. He silently passed Zayn the pants and they headed back towards Niall, standing above him. He was just lying there, seeming almost catatonic, but he was still shivering. Zayn reached for his boyfriend, but then Mr. Horan's hands were on his own, holding him back.   
"You don't have to stay for this, Zayn." he said softly, his tone pained. "If you don't want to see his- if you don't want to see him like this. You've done enough."   
"Don't make me go." Zayn whispered back, his voice cracking. "I need to know he's alright." 

Mr. Horan studied him for a long moment, and then nodded, his eyes wet. They then set to work. Mr. Horan put an arm under Niall's shoulders and eased him into a sitting position. He gently coaxed Niall to put his arms over his head, and once he had, Niall's father took off his shirt. Zayn knew he should avert his eyes, but he couldn't bear to. He had to know, had to see that, physically, Niall was okay. So Zayn looked. 

Niall's skin under his shirt was even paler than the rest of his body. He was skinny, every exhale making his ribs known. His collarbones were cavernous, dipping down from his neck. Light brown hair went from his navel down to the waistband of his sweatpants, and Zayn felt his cheeks redden at the sight. Mr. Horan grabbed a towel from the cupboard and then wrapped it around Niall's shoulders, trying to warm him up. The blonde boy ducked his chin down, pressing his cheek into the material. It was the only movement Zayn had seen him make in ten minutes. 

But he was still so cold. And Zayn was at Niall's feet, so the next part was his job. He worked Niall's soaked socks off his feet and tossed them to the ground. Glancing slightly at Mr. Horan, as if asking permission, he then reached for waistband of Niall's pants, untying the lace in the front. He shut his eyes as he pulled the sweatpants down Niall's legs, because now all Niall had on was his briefs. 

Zayn had imagined the two of them being in this position before: had pictured slowly undressing Niall and being unable to breathe over his beauty. He'd pictured kissing him as he did it, reassuring him that everything was going to be okay. He never envisioned that the first time he saw Niall unclothed would be like this. But his boyfriend still wasn't warm, still wasn't _right_. Zayn had more to do, so he opened his eyes. 

And oh, how Zayn wished he kept them closed. Because what he saw made him agree with Mr. Horan: he could've seen something much worse in that bathroom. 

 

Niall's thighs were criss-crossed with tiny scars. Half-hidden by the black material of his boxers, they obstinately peeked out from underneath it. They were long, horizontal lines in his skin: puckered and pink. Some looked deeper than others, some looked older than others. A few were almost faded away entirely. But they were still undeniably there. 

Niall self-harmed. 

Niall possibly self- _harms_. 

And Zayn didn't know. 

 

Zayn stumbled away from the bedside, his back slamming into the wall of Niall's bedroom. He slowly sank down to the ground, feeling his throat close over. Putting his head between his knees, he started to inhale rapidly, fisting his hands through his hair and gripping it tight. Zayn could feel sweat breaking out over his whole body and he shuddered violently, gasping. Mr. Horan was watching him, he knew that, but Zayn couldn't control himself. He tore at his hair, slamming his feet against the floorboards.   
" _Fuck_." Zayn cursed, not caring that Niall's dad was right there. "Oh my god, oh shit, I can't. He- he hurt himself. He might still hurt himself. Oh my fucking god."   
"Zayn-" Mr. Horan started.  
Scrambling back up, Zayn vaulted back over to Niall. He needed to be sure, he was praying he imagined it. Kneeling down at the bed, Zayn put his hands on Niall's legs tenderly, pulling him closer. Narrowing his eyes, he leaned down until his nose was almost touching Niall's skin. 

_Don't be there, don't be there, don't be there._ Zayn begged silently, casting his thoughts out to anyone that was listening. _Tell me I imagined this, don't be there. He's my boy, he can't have self-harm scars, he can't...my boy...._

But the scars were still there. Zayn touched his fingertip to one of them, so lightly Niall didn't even react. The skin was bumpy beneath his touch, raised and smooth on top. It reminded Zayn of when one of his younger sisters had a half-healed cut, right after you took the bandage off. Except these were symmetrical, too purposeful to be an accident. The perfect scar. 

Zayn dropped his head down and let himself break. 

He sobbed into the mattress, holding onto Niall's hips tightly, as if he was going to run away. Tears and snot were streaming down his face, and he couldn't catch his breath, and he could feel bile rising up in his throat everytime he thought about it. He was utterly undone, howling into the duvet. Zayn could hear the ungodly noises he was making, but he couldn't make them stop. He wanted it all to stop, wanted to go back twenty-four hours, wanted Niall to be ignoring him again. Being ignored would be better than knowing this. Better than knowing that his boy had once been so sad, so desperate for any relief, so _sick_ , that he took a blade to his skin. 

 

Zayn felt Mr. Horan crouch down beside him. The man put a gentle hand on Zayn's back, rubbing his palm up and down his spine soothingly. He didn't know how long it took, but eventually, Zayn quieted, his sobs becoming shaky hiccups. He leaned up from his position on the mattress, looking at Niall on the bed. His eyes were shut, his breath was slow: he'd fallen asleep from pure exhaustion. Niall hadn't seen Zayn lose it. And for that, Zayn was grateful. 

Still trembling, Zayn looked at Mr. Horan. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was overcome again, so he clenched his jaw shut, holding back more tears. Mr. Horan was looking at him sadly. But he didn't look totally surprised.   
"He didn't tell you about this either." the man said softly and Zayn shook his head furiously, beginning to cry again. Mr. Horan opened his arm and hugged Zayn tight, putting a calming hand on the back of his neck. Zayn wept into his shoulder, gripping Niall's father tightly. He was the only thing grounding Zayn in that moment.   
"I need- I need-" Zayn gasped, feeling like he was drowning in words, drowning in tears, drowning in Niall. "I need to go- I can't be here- I can't see him-"  
"Go home, Zayn." Mr. Horan said softly, pushing the boy's hair back from his tear-stained eyes. "Go home. But don't drive. You walk home, do you hear me?"   
Zayn nodded dutifully, scrubbing at his wet face, and Mr. Horan stood, offering Zayn his hand and helping him up. Zayn couldn't bear to look at him anymore: he looked too much like Niall. Mr. Horan turned back to his sleeping son, letting Zayn slip out alone. Zayn looked around one last time as he paused by the bedroom door. 

Niall was in the bed properly now, the duvet pulled up to his chin. His face was blank, all sadness lost in the stupor of sleep. His hair was now half-dry, sticking up and fluffy like feathers. One of his arms was flung over his head, the milky skin of his wrist visible. Niall looked beautiful. Niall looked perfect. 

Zayn ran out of the house as fast as his legs could carry him. 

 

And then Zayn did the most natural thing possible, the only thing he could think to do. He went to his mother. Arriving home, he hurtled into the house, his heart pounding as he looked for her. Running down the hall towards the kitchen, he elbowed the door open. Zayn couldn't use his hands, because they were too scraped up. He had run all the way home, and fell three times, getting dirt and grit into his freshly cut hands. They stung, blood seeping out of them, but Zayn could barely feel it. Entering the kitchen, Zayn looked around wildly, his head on a swivel. She had to be here, he needed her to be here-

"Zayn?" Tricia said from her place at the stove as she caught sight of him. "Are you alright, love?"   
"Mum." Zayn said woodenly, feeling numb all of a sudden. His mother reached for a tea towel and wiped her hands, then tossing it down and heading towards her son. She put her hands on his shoulders, looking him up and down in confusion. Worry sparked in her brown eyes and she tilted her head to the side, regarding him.   
"What's the matter, pet?" she said lovingly. A mother doesn't even have to ask to know something's wrong. "You can tell me, whatever it is." 

Zayn limply showed her his ruined hands, knowing she'd take care of that first. As desperate as he was to tell her, to relieve the building pressure in his chest, he didn't know how to say it. So, Tricia tutted and sat him down at the kitchen table. She brought the first aid kit over and dabbed at his scrapes with antiseptic. Applying a bandage over every single cut, she then turned his hand over and kissed his knuckles.   
"There, now that that's taken care of." she said gently. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong, poppet?"   
Zayn looked into her brown eyes: kind, imploring, motherly brown eyes. He swallowed deeply and cleared his throat, feeling himself tear up again in her sight.   
"Niall- he-" he started weakly, voice breaking. "He-uh-he-"

_He has scars that aren't accidental and I didn't know._

_He has a dead mother and I didn't know._

_I didn't know, I didn't know, I didn't know._

 

Zayn started crying again, and then he simply couldn't stop. Immediately, Tricia held him tight, humming under her breath. She ran her hands through his hair, the way he'd loved since he was a kid, and as he leaned into her, he could smell her perfume. She smelled like flowers and freshly baked bread and soap. She smelled safe. Tricia didn't ask again what was wrong, she just let him sob. And Zayn did. He sat there and let his mother heal his cuts, so they wouldn't scar. He sat there and cried to his mother about a boy who didn't have one.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG 
> 
> This chapter was a royal pain to write, mostly because the entire fic lead to the "big reveal" in the last chapter, and once that happened, I had two seconds of "YES IT WORKED I PULLED OFF THE PLOT TWIST AND NOBODY GUESSED IT BEFOREHAND." 
> 
> Aaaaaaaaaannnnnndddddd then I went "What do I do now." 
> 
> I tried to give what everybody wanted out of this chapter, and I hope it fulfills everyone's wishes. You're all stars :3

Seeing Niall in school on Monday morning was one of most painful things Zayn ever had to experience. It hurt more than his first fight, when a fellow twelve year old called Zayn a terrorist and Zayn clocked him one in the middle of the recess yard. It hurt more than his first tattoo, when he was fifteen and cried, because who knew getting a ying-yang on your wrist could hurt that badly? It hurt more than when he found out his grandfather died; the only family member Zayn has had to lose. 

The worst part about it was that Zayn wasn't even prepared to see him. He was just aimlessly wandering the halls, avoiding their normal morning tête-à-tête in the school's student centre. For some reason, they'd kept this tradition up over the past weeks, even though Louis and Harry still couldn't look at each other. Mostly, the conversation at these meetings consisted of Liam showing Niall and Zayn his cutesy couple pictures with Sophia and them cooing over said pictures. However, Zayn usually looked forward to them, because it meant he got to see Niall and fix his permanently crooked tie and maybe kiss him if there was enough privacy. 

Except Zayn could not face it that morning. He couldn't face Niall's leftover bedhead and his tired yet bright eyes and his sleepy smiles. Zayn didn't know if those smiles would be there at all. He hadn't even wanted to come in today, but his mother made him. It was a close fight, but she won when she said that Niall would probably freak out if he didn't see Zayn in school. They'd had no contact for the past two days, because Zayn locked himself in his room and refused to speak to anyone. 

On Sunday, he snuck out of the house with some weed and his lighter, walking to his favourite part of the woods. He got high on the same rock where he and Niall sat beneath the stars on their first date. It'd been a welcome relief: the drugs calming his mind and making him stop thinking _Niall Niall Niall Niall_ every single second. He just sat there on the rock, stoned out of his mind, incapable of thinking about anything else. But, as always, his high faded and then Zayn was left feeling more desolate than before. Once the haze around his drugged brain was gone, all he had left was the memories of this exact spot. Above him, the sky had no stars in it and Zayn felt utterly alone. It was a beautiful blue, a sign that spring was in fact coming, and Zayn tried to pretend that since October, blue hadn't become his favourite colour. 

But Zayn knew his mum was right, that Niall would lose the plot if he didn't see Zayn in class, at the very least. Probably because his mind would automatically jump to the worst conclusion, that something awful had happened Zayn leaving his house on Saturday. And no wonder. No fucking wonder that Niall was so nervy and anxious and goddamn hyperactive about safety....

After having two days to try and process everything, Zayn still couldn't believe this had happened. He couldn't believe that Niall's mother was dead. He couldn't believe that Niall dealt with the pain of it, all alone. And mostly...Zayn couldn't believe that Niall hadn't told him. He thought that over the last few months, he had been taking down Niall's walls, bit by bit. Cliche as it was, Niall was a puzzle. A beautiful puzzle. Zayn's puzzle, to solve and marvel at and cherish. Zayn thought he was really beginning to know the boy: to understand what made him tick, what made him smile, what made him cry. 

At least he definitely knows the answer to that last one. 

And as for the other discovery Zayn made on Saturday morning, he hasn't been able to think about it. Everytime he does, he winds up hysterical all over again, crying into his pillow like a newborn. Whenever his mind wanders there, to that moment of awful discovery, almost every part of Zayn's body aches. But funnily enough, his chest doesn't. The place that Zayn expected to hurt the most feels strangely empty, like his heart knows he cannot fucking deal and is giving him a reprieve.  
He almost wishes it wouldn't though. He wanted to feel everything, feel even a fraction of what Niall felt...what he possibly still _feels_. Maybe then Zayn could begin to understand: but he doesn't think he ever really will. And Zayn knows that he'll never get that image, the image of Niall's skin, out of his head. 

So, there Zayn was, trying to beat the bell until first period started. Unfortunately, first period was English, one of three classes he had with Niall, but at least they wouldn't have to interact much. (That is, if Niall was even in school today. Given how he looked on Saturday, Zayn had his doubts.) Zayn paused at his locker, leaning down and fiddling with the lock. He couldn't remember his fucking combination, Niall always remembered it for him. Zayn leaned his head against the closed metal door, wanting to beat his skull against it. And that desire only increased when he heard Niall's laugh.

Niall's.... _laugh_?

 

Looking up in terror, Zayn saw his four friends walking down the hall, being rambunctious and loud as fuck, as always. Liam was next to Harry, gesturing wildly with his mobile, so Zayn could safely assume he was showing him pictures of whatever he'd done with Sophia that weekend. Harry was nodding along patiently, actually looking interested (which is more than Zayn ever managed). Next to Liam is Louis, who looks like he shoved his hand into a socket, given by how his hair is sticking up all over the place.  
"Then the fuckin' hair dryer shocked me!" Louis says indignantly. "There was I, just mindin' my own business, trying to make my hair look decent, and then my arm was tingling! It still hasn't stopped!" 

And there it was again. Niall's laugh. Zayn didn't imagine it. 

Niall popped out from behind Louis' body, his head thrown back. He clapped a hand to his mouth, trying to stifle the sound as he giggled into his palm. Zayn could see his eyes sparkling from where he was kneeling, and the sight made his breath catch in his throat. He was light and easy and playful, bumping into Louis' shoulder as they walk side by side. He was almost unrecognizable from the boy Zayn had seen on Saturday: the boy that didn't have the strength to lift himself out of a freezing bath. This was the Niall that everyone got to see, the persona he'd carefully crafted for himself. This was fake. This Niall was fake, but he looked the same as ever. His hair was messy and his tie was still crooked and his gray school pants were rumpled. But Zayn now knew that beneath those clothes, beneath the facade of Niall, was pain that he couldn't bear thinking about. 

This Niall was fake, and Zayn thought that maybe, the only time he'd ever seen the real Niall was Saturday morning. And that thought made him dizzy. Zayn shut his eyes, turning his face away, and pressed his head back against the locker. _Don't notice me, don't notice me, don't notice me_ he prayed internally. _I can't look at you like this, acting happy when you're so clearly not, please don't notice me...._

"Zayn?" Louis said, surprise in his voice, and damn it all to fucking Hell. "What're you doing here, mate? Why didn't you come to the student centre?"  
Zayn could feel Niall's eyes boring into his back, and he knew that the happy smile from earlier was gone off his face. He allowed himself a few seconds to brace everything, took a breath deep enough to deplete oxygen levels across Great Britain, and then looked up. He focused solely on Louis, because technically, he was the one with the question. And because Zayn would probably burst into tears if he so much as glanced at his boyfriend again.  
"I- uh- I needed to get some books out of my locker." Zayn said, feeling how weak his voice was. "Like the one we're reading in English right now. But I- I can't- I can't-" 

Here, Zayn's voice broke and he grit his teeth, clenching his nails into his palms. That's right, he can't. He fucking _can't_. Zayn shut his eyes, feeling his lips tremble, and he pressed them tightly together. Now he could feel everyone watching him closely, except maybe Niall. Because he knew what was wrong. Liam's eyes were trained on Zayn, his classic "worried mother hen" expression on his face. Louis, despite his funny hair, looked gravely serious. Harry seemed ready to give Zayn a big hug, a vat of soup, and a teddy bear. But Niall's eyes were trained on the ground, his hands deep into his pockets.  
"I can't remember my fucking combination." Zayn muttered, rapping at the locker with his knuckles. "I've been trying for ages, so I think I'll just pack it in and go to English without the bloody book."  
"Yeah, good idea, Zayn." Liam said gently, stepping forward and putting a hand on Zayn's back. "We sit next to each other in that class, so you can just share mine-"  
"No." 

Zayn stiffened even more as he heard Niall's voice. He sounded tentative and quiet, his tone weaker than Zayn's had been. But he also sounded just like Niall, and Zayn winced as his voice washed over him, because it hurt. It bloody fucking _hurt_ , causing an ache in Zayn's chest, the one place that had been left untouched by this indescribable pain. Because as much as it hurt, there was no sound that Zayn needed to hear more. 

Niall stepped forward, kneeling down beside his boyfriend. Zayn hissed in a breath at his proximity, almost shying away as Niall's knee bumped against his. Niall looked at him underneath his eyelashes, his cheeks whitening as Zayn barely glanced back. With hands that only Zayn could see shaking, Niall reached for the lock, twisting the dial between his fingers.  
"Twenty five." he whispered, and this was too much, Zayn couldn't do this. He was too close, he was too familiar. They'd done this too many times before Saturday, and now it was after Saturday, and Zayn couldn't stop the tears burning his eyes.  
"Six." Niall continued, and they both jumped as his elbow knocked against Zayn's. Everybody else was watching this weird exchange, and Zayn knew there'd be questions, and plenty of them. He didn't even want to think about them, let alone answer any.  
"Eighty-eight." he finished, almost inaudible. 

With a loud click, the lock opened. Niall worked it off its hinge and then handed it to Zayn, his cold fingers slipping in between Zayn's. Zayn shut his eyes at the brief contact as Niall pulled his hand away and stood up slowly, the joints of his knees clicking. It was too much and not enough at the same time. His grip tightened around the lock and Zayn reached for the locker door, swinging it open. He grabbed every book he needed and threw them into his backpack, inhaling shallowly. Scrambling to his feet, Zayn heaved the bag onto his shoulders and then, because there was no more avoiding it, he looked at Niall. 

Niall's face was guarded, his eyes flicking up and down Zayn's form. He was biting down on his thumbnail, and Zayn gasped sharply at the sight. Because- because he finally figured out what exactly that habit signified. It was pain that took away pain. A lot like something else Niall did. Niall's complexion was deathly white, no pinkness to his cheeks whatsoever, and he suddenly looked far too similar to how he looked in that bathroom two days ago.  
"Thank you." Zayn said quietly, and Niall gave a stiff, shaky nod, gulping harshly. Slowly, Zayn reached over, putting his hand on top of Niall's. He worked his fingers in between the other boy's, and then pulled Niall's thumb away from his mouth. Old habits die hard. On both their parts, it would seem. 

The five boys entered the English classroom in utter silence. 

 

Zayn skipped Chemistry class that day. It was utter self preservation for him, because the two other classes he had with Niall during the school day were unbearable. English was agony, for a lot of reasons. One being that they were reading possibly the stupidest book on the planet: _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_. This was simply because their teacher was a major Janeite, and also an avid fan of _The Walking Dead_. Zayn wasn't a Jane Austen fanatic on a good day, and the added horror scenes turned him off even more. Harry was absolutely horrified at his favourite book being turned into a zombie tale, whereas Louis slept through every page of the book except the ones with brains on them. Liam was doing his best to be interested, diligently answering every question on the novel. But obviously, seeing Niall was what killed Zayn. 

He just sat there, head bowed over his book. From where Zayn sat, he could see Niall's fingers tapping his desk, playing a song on the wood. Occasionally, he'd look up and glance out the window, staring at whatever caught his attention. The weak sun hit his hair just right, setting it alight and bathing him in a glow. At one point, the teacher called on him to read a passage from the book, so Niall obliged, sitting up straighter and clearing his throat. Zayn shut his eyes as Niall spoke. His Irish accent, always making him stick out amongst his English peers, sounded as beautiful as ever: lilting and flowing and singing in all the right places. Listening to every word hurt, though they weren't Niall's own, because Zayn couldn't help but feel that that was all he'd get to hear Niall say for awhile. 

If possible, lunch was worse. It consisted of Louis and Harry not looking at each other, Zayn and Niall not looking at each other, and Liam, clearly sensing the tension, frantically offering up ideas for their spring break. In a week, they had six whole days off school, and usually, people in Seventh Class went away somewhere. The beach was the normal choice, but sometimes people went elsewhere. Zayn had been seriously looking forward to it, just a couple days away with his best friends and his boyfriend. Liam, seeming to know that now nobody was overly enthused by the idea, got desperate and pulled out his laptop, bring up pages and pages of trip ideas. 

“We could go to Briton, there’s beach houses there for rent.’ Liam said conversationally, eyes on the computer screen as he scrolled down. “Or, if we wanna get a bit inventive, my uncle has a cottage in Wales, which might be fun either. I’d even be up for a cross-country roadtrip, if you guys would be into it, provided we could get a car to fit us all.”

There was silence for a few moments, everybody looking down at their food and not meeting Liam’s expectant gaze. He was trying to make things normal, Zayn knew that, they likely all knew that. But nobody knew how to respond, because honestly? Every single one of those ideas seemed like hell, at least to Zayn. Whether they ended up surfing on a beach in Briton or all crammed into one car for hours on end, it still meant he would be spending extended periods of time with Niall. And right now, when Zayn could barely get through a forty-five minute lunch period in his company without wanting to cry, the thought of spring break seemed unbearable. 

So Zayn skipped Chemistry that day. He doubted that Ms. Tissons would care (or even notice, considering everything going on in her head at the moment). Or even if she did care, Zayn didn’t. He always looked forward to Chemistry, because it was much more hands on than English. He and Niall usually just fucked around the lab table and didn’t do any actual work. However, that certainly wouldn’t be happening today. So Zayn walked the halls by himself, lost in his thoughts and enjoying the silence. He went up and down the school, not caring where his feet took him. 

Well, Zayn didn’t care until he found himself in the music wing. 

Outside of Practice Room Three. 

With the sound of drums richoeting through the entire hall. 

 

_He doesn't play the drums_. Zayn thought desperately. _There are so many things I don't know about him, but I do know that he doesn't play the drums_. Creeping forward, Zayn stood outside the room, not daring to look through the Plexiglass window and see who's in there. He turned to the right and pressed his back against the wall, tipping his head backwards and gulping back a heavy breath. Zayn couldn't help but think that Fate was royally fucking with him and that it actually was Niall inside that room. It'd be horribly twisted and unfair, if they both decided to skip class to avoid seeing each other and then ended up in the exact same location. Especially since that location was the sight of their first kiss. 

He had to know, because Zayn knew he'd be furious with himself if he didn't find out. Zayn steeled himself and looking in through the window, his nose pressed against the plastic. And of course, because Fate is a right bastard, it was Niall in there. He was seated at the drum set, wailing away on the instrument like he wanted to beat the shit out of it. His arms were a rapid blur, the drumsticks in his hands hitting the cymbals so hard, it rattled Zayn's bones. There could not have been more of a contrast between the last time Zayn saw Niall play an instrument. Where the piano was gentle and tender, its notes dancing softly, the drums were all rage: Angry and volatile and about to snap. 

Zayn didn't think that was fair. Why was Niall angry? Maybe he was upset by how Zayn reacted on Saturday, but come the fuck on, he hadn't exactly been prepared. At all. Niall wasn't the one who'd had the truth hidden from him, wasn't the one who was basically lied to for five months. He didn't have to see his boyfriend, freezing and half passed out on his bed. Niall didn't have to see _self-harm scars_ on the person he...

Without thinking about how painful it'd be, Zayn entered the practice room and shut the door loudly behind him. He wasn't gonna try and hide his presence, he wanted Niall to know he was there. As Niall was raising his arms to bring them down on the drums again, he caught sight of Zayn. Mouth falling open in surprise, he dropped one of the drumsticks, listening to it clatter against the floor. A performer to the last, Niall slammed his remaining hand down on the cymbal. Then, the two boys just stared at each other as sound reverberated around them, and the silence between them seemed even louder. 

Niall's chest was heaving from the exertion of his playing, his breaths too rapid. Zayn could see sweat dripping down his neck, into his collar. His fringe was stuck to his forehead with sweat also, and Niall ran his fingers through it without breaking eye contact with Zayn. He stared back wantonly, feeling his jaw tighten.  
"Didn't know you play the drums." Zayn said, his voice curt. "Is there any instrument you don't play?"  
"Clarinet." Niall responded weakly, his eyes dull. "I tried to learn when I was nine, and I thought all the pieces were gonna rip my hands to shreds."  
Zayn must've subconsciously glanced at his own still bandaged hands, because Niall followed his gaze. His face softened slightly, his mouth open.  
"What happened?" he asked softly, tilting his head to study Zayn more closely, and fuck no. He didn't get to know, didn't get to feel pity for him. Niall didn't get to make things better.  
"I fell." Zayn snapped, and Niall shrank back, hunching himself over at his shoulders. Zayn felt guilt flicker through him, because he now knew that Niall has had it tough. This kid had been through the wringer, several fucking times, and Zayn knew he was being a dick to him. He was being harsh and abrasive and a downright ass to the one person who probably deserved it least. 

But he- he-

He just _hurt_ , because Niall didn't tell him. 

"Are you okay?" Niall asked meekly, raising his head again and looking at Zayn with huge, soulful eyes. "Are you okay, Zayn?"  
And Zayn knew that Niall was asking about more than Zayn's cut hands. He'd gotten good enough at reading Niall Horan that Zayn could see his unspoken questions. He was asking if Zayn was okay mentally. He was asking if Zayn was okay emotionally. He was asking if _they_ , Zayn and Niall, were okay. And honestly? Zayn thought that the answer to every single one of those questions was no. 

So he shook his head. Niall hissed in a breath and cast his eyes away again, dipping his chin down to his chest. He clumsily knocked against the cymbal and hurried to steady with his hand. Zayn dug his nails into his palms, shuddering at the burst of new pain it brought. He could feel fresh blood pooling up underneath his bandages, but he didn't care. All that mattered in that moment was the conversation they were about to have. 

Or maybe not have, because Niall didn't seem to be saying anything else. Was he seriously not going to talk about it now? Now, after all this shit had gone down and there was such a toxic feeling between the two of them? Was he not going to clear the air so they could begin to see each other again? Maybe see each other for the very first time? Zayn sighed and leaned against the wall, resting his head against it. He shut his eyes, knowing Niall was focusing intently on him. But he still wasn't speaking, so Zayn guessed he had to say it. 

"Why, Niall?" Zayn whispered, physically unable to speak any louder than that. "Why wouldn't you just tell me?"  
"Would you?" Niall said back, his voice growing stronger. His eyes flashed with a sudden light and _there_ , there we fucking go. There was the life that Zayn knew Niall had inside of him. He was defending himself: Niall was fighting back. "If you were me, if our positions were reversed, would you? Think about it for a second." 

And suddenly, Zayn felt cowed beneath Niall's relentless blue gaze. He was looking at Zayn, unabashedly, his face determined. Yes, there was guilt there. Yes, there was shame there. There was pain too, the kind of pain Zayn knew was reflected in his own face. But Niall also seemed firm, and right then, Zayn wasn't. Because he didn't know what he'd do if he had a deceased parent. He liked to think he'd be honest and open in that situation, but really, Zayn just didn't know. 

He hoped he'd never have to find out either. 

 

"I don't- I don't know what I'd do." Zayn said honestly, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. "I really, really don't."  
"That's exactly how I've felt since I moved here." Niall responds breathlessly, his voice cracking a bit. "I've wanted to tell you for so long, nearly as soon as I met you. I wanted to tell all the boys, I've had so many panic attacks about keeping this secret from you all. But you...You just seemed like you'd understand, from the very first time I had a meltdown in front of you about- about her. But- you assumed something that wasn't true, and I didn't correct you. I let it happen, because having divorced parents was better than explaining what actually happened."  
Niall swallowed deeply and shut his eyes, flicking his tongue over his dry lips. He let out a shuddering breath, nibbling down on his nails.  
"I came so close to telling you on our first date, in the woods. It would've been the perfect time, to let it out as soon as we started dating. I had a feeling you'd be upset that I didn't tell you before that point, but- it would've been better than keeping it in while our relationship progressed, I know that. But then- I got so scared of telling you. Like voicing it would make it real. I thought you'd push me away if you found out."  
"I never would've done that, Niall." Zayn croaked, his voice impossibly dry. He didn't understand: he would've infinitely preferred being told that night than having to find out the way he did. At his words, Niall's eyes flicked to Zayn's face, and the faintest smile grazed his lips. There was a trace of bitterness there now, a cruel twist of his mouth that Zayn couldn't understand.  
"You're doing it right now." Niall said bluntly, resting his hands on his knees and gripping them tightly. "Right now. To you, I'm not just Niall anymore. I'm not Niall, just your boyfriend anymore. I'm Niall, the boy with the dead mum. I'm Niall, the boy who didn't share his biggest secret with the one person in his life who deserved to hear it most. And I'm gonna have to deal with that, because I brought it on myself. This has happened me before, you know. My friends in Mullingar...they all stopped talking to me after the accident." 

Zayn's mouth fell open, and suddenly, he felt rage fill him. Who the fuck were these people and why the fuck would they abandon Niall, in the worst time of his life? He wanted to fly over to Ireland and beat the shit out of these nameless strangers for that crime. Zayn had often wondered why Niall never contacted his friends from home, or even talked about them. Now he didn't have to wonder anymore. Niall caught sight of Zayn's outraged face, and he was quick to make amends, probably sensing his intentions.  
"I phrased that badly. They didn't stop talking to me, they tried to keep our friendships going. But I just- I just wasn't at a place where I could handle something as commonplace as friendship. I couldn't focus on the film we went to see in the cinema, or the football match, or all this trivial shit, because- because all I could focus on was how sad I was and how much I missed my mum. And I guess- I guess when I was ready to focus on the trivial shit again, when I wanted my friends again, when I wanted to talk...we'd run out of things to say to each other." 

Niall sighed, hanging his head. He fiddled with a loose button of his cardian until it came off in his hand, and then he rolled it between his fingers, his apparent drummer's dexterity keeping it from falling to the ground. For the first time all day, Zayn found himself wanting to touch him. Just to feel his skin against Zayn's own and brush his hair back and taste the sweetness of his mouth. For a split second, he wasn't terrified by that desire, wasn't pained by it. Slowly, Zayn raised his hand, as if to graze it against Niall's cheek. But then, the second ended, and Zayn lowered it again. Niall caught the movement and looked at him, his eyes limpid and sad.  
"So basically, I thought that if I told you, that exact same thing would happen between us. And I couldn't bear the thought of of it. I couldn't bear the thought of losing your friendship at first, and then it became about not wanting to lose us in general: what we were becoming, what we then became." 

Niall fell silent, swallowing loudly. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, inhaling harshly. He stood up from the drumset slowly, almost tripping over the pedal. Zayn fought the urge to catch him, to swoop in and grab him by the elbows and set him upright. He'd done that on Saturday, when Niall couldn't stand alone, and a repetition of the action might just kill him. Niall found his balance and stepped towards Zayn, tilting his head up to look at him. He looked utterly exhausted, his face drawn and tight, and Zayn knew Niall had probably been sleeping about as well as he had.  
"I don't want to lose what we are now." Niall whispered at last, his breath close enough to blow across Zayn's skin. 

Zayn couldn't respond, because his throat was too tight. He just stared at Niall, feeling his heart hammer, probably somewhere against his esophagus. Niall was studying him, his eyes so guarded, it looked like they had stone walls around them. He was beginning to understand a bit better. Zayn could at least sorta put himself in Niall's shoes and try to figure out what he would've done in that situation. If given the chance to pretend that his parents were just living apart, Zayn might take it too, in an effort to reinvent himself and forget the horror of the past. That didn't mean he understood everything, because Niall had yet to explain everything. Zayn still had so many questions, but didn't know how to voice them, and as he looked at his boyfriend, they all surged back to the forefront of his mind. 

_How did you manage to even mention your mother to me without breaking down?_

_Did any of your "friends" attend her funeral, or did they abandon you there too?_

_Did you see a therapist after she died?_

_Please tell me the stars in your room don't make you cry every night._

_Why did you....why did you hurt yourself?_

_When was the first time you did?_

_When was the last time you did?_

_Tell me there's been a last time._

_Tell me it wasn't any time after I met you._

_Tell me it wasn't any time after we started dating._

_Tell me it wasn't Saturday._

 

But Zayn still couldn't say a word. Not a single one of the questions, each more agonizing than the last, could worm it's way past his lips. Niall was still watching him warily, his expression growing more and more terrified every moment. He'd basically just told Zayn that he didn't want this to be the end of them, that he still wanted to be involved, as long as Zayn did. And Niall was waiting for an answer, for a confirmation or a negation. But Zayn couldn't give him one, because he needed at least one of his questions answered. 

Even though it would break him to say. As Niall said earlier, voicing it would make it real. 

 

Holding the words back for as long as possible, Zayn decided to let actions do at least some of the talking for him. So he slowly reached down, letting Niall see every single motion of his hands. Zayn touched Niall's waist at first, both of them stiffening at the contact. Were they going to be like this forever? Only touching when necessary, like they were broken glass or a burning flame? Zayn looked in Niall's eyes quickly, seeing the confusion there. He clearly had no idea what Zayn was doing, and that left only two explanation. One being that Niall was playing dumb. (And at this point, that'd be a truly dumb thing to do). The other was that Niall honestly had no idea what subject Zayn was about to bring up, and Zayn gasped inaudibly as he remembered. 

Niall had been practically in shock when Zayn and Mr. Horan got him out of his wet clothes. And he'd been fast asleep by the time Zayn pulled himself together enough to go home. He might not even know what Zayn had lost it over, or if he did, he'd assumed it was just a secondary freak out about Niall's mother. And looking down into Niall's befuddled gaze, Zayn just knew that Niall didn't know. He thought Zayn had only learned one of his secrets on Saturday, which is why he hadn't explained it yet. 

Now Zayn had two recourses. He could pretend he didn't know, save Niall from having to speak about something he definitely didn't want to mention. Or he could bring it up and deal with whatever fallout happened next. And really, Zayn knew he only had one true option, because he was certain that any more secrets between himself and Niall would destroy them. Niall had to know that Zayn knew. So Zayn removed his hands from Niall's hips, continuing their movement downward. He grazed his fingertips along the material of Niall's gray school pants, not holding on just yet. Zayn could hear Niall's breath catch in his throat at the motion, and Zayn took a deep breath himself, gripping onto Niall's thigh. It hurt just to know what was beneath his clothes, the scars that he'd put there himself, remnants of pain that took away other pain. 

Just one questions. Just one _word_. That's all Zayn had to say. That's all he could. 

 

"Why?" Zayn choked out, finally getting past the lump in his throat. He bit down on his bottom lip, hard enough to break skin. Niall was looking up at him, his complexion totally ashen. His eyes were fixated on Zayn's face, looked fractured and terrified. Zayn could feel him shaking beneath his hands, and instantly, he wanted to let go. But- Niall looked ready to run, and if Zayn removed his hands, he knew Niall would. He'd run away faster than he did on that fateful day when he hit Zayn with the football. And Zayn didn't know if Niall would ever find his way back to him this time, so he hung on tightly. Niall hissed slightly at the pressure of Zayn's hands, and Zayn shut his eyes, praying that he hadn't just reopened a fresh cut. 

"My dad told you?" Niall asked at last, breaking the silence between them. He pressed the heel of his hand to his mouth, his entire frame shaking. Zayn knew he'd just hurt him by making his discovery known. He just hurt Niall in a way that Zayn couldn't understand. Something so intensely private shouldn't ever be discussed unwillingly. And yet Zayn didn't feel regret (yet), because this was a discussion they simply had to have. "He knew I wouldn't have, so he did, because he thought you deserved to know, yeah?"  
"No, Niall." Zayn whispered, feeling dread coil around his stomach like a snake. He didn't want to to relive a single moment of that day. Just remembering the sight had him trembling. "He didn't tell me."  
"Then how do you know?" Niall breathed, shutting his eyes. "You can't- you can't know. I never told anyone, not a single person- you can't know, you _can't_!" 

With a choked back sob, Niall grabbed Zayn's hands and flung them away from his legs. He rushed to the other side of the room, beginning to pace back and forth as obvious hysteria cascaded upon him. He leaned against the wall and bowed over at the waist, putting his head between his knees and gulping back breaths of air. Zayn could only watch as he panicked, misery and doubt turning his legs to lead. He didn't even know if he had the right to help Niall anymore. There was a time when Niall chose Zayn to help him, wanted nobody else to do it, even though Zayn hadn't really known what _to_ do. 

Niall leaned up and ran a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly. He gave it a tug, and it looked like he wanted the strands to come out in his hands. He blew out a breath, his lips red and swollen from biting at them. Zayn could see him rigoring from where he stood, his body wracked with shudders. He looked like he was about to go down and for the first time, Zayn felt unable to catch him.  
"Tell me how you know." Niall whispered, his voice broken. "Please."  
"I helped you get out of your wet clothes." Zayn said numbly in response, trying not to focus on how Niall was biting his thumbnail right this second. "And- and- the bottoms of your shorts had gotten bunched up, and-"  
"You saw." Niall finished for him, shutting his eyes in horror. "Nobody told you: you saw." 

Zayn nodded once, feeling a couple tears trickle down his cheeks. All the pent-up emotion from today was hittng him as he acknowledged what he'd seen. This was the final affirmation that he hadn't imagined it. His last hope of it all being a bad dream was now gone, and losing that hope was like losing a limb. Zayn felt his knees tremble together and he scrabbled for the wall, looking for anything to hold onto and keep him up.  
"I saw." he gasped out, beginning to cry harder as he felt the ground shift unsteadily beneath him. "I saw, I saw, _oh my god_ , Niall, I saw." 

And this time, Zayn was the one who went down, brought to his knees by panic and pain. 

And this time, Niall was the one who caught him. 

 

Small but strong hands were at his elbows, guiding him safely down to the floor. They sank down together, Niall holding onto Zayn tighter as they reached the ground. Zayn ended up with his legs splayed out in front of him, the upper half of his body being held up by Niall. He was crying so hard that he couldn't see, feeling tears dampen his cheeks as he wept. Niall's body was solid and warm against Zayn's, and he could feel the rapid beating of his heart through his shirt. His face was pressed into Zayn's hair, mumbling something over and over. Zayn tried to quiet himself enough so that he could hear, and as his sobs lessened, he made it out.  
"I'm sorry." Niall whispered again and again. "I'm sorry, Zayn, I'm so, so sorry. You shouldn't have had to find out that way: I never wanted you to find out at all, really."  
Zayn still couldn't speak, but he pressed his mouth together and shook his head firmly. He needed Niall to be aware that Zayn was glad he knew. It was a vital piece of understanding Niall: of knowing how he responded to emotional trauma. Zayn was glad he knew, because now, he could check. He could slowly garner all the facts and watch Niall more carefully than ever before. He could check to make sure that Niall hadn't fallen back into it. However, the first thing to do was determine if he'd ever stopped. 

But as Niall looked down at him from their position on the floor, his expression cautious and gentle, Zayn knew that that was a question for another day. Niall reached over and tenderly cupped Zayn's cheek, wiping away the wetness there with the soft pad of his thumb. Zayn let himself savor the touch, knowing how much he'd craved it. He pressed his face into Niall's palm, feeling the callouses on his fingers from guitar. Or maybe from holding drumsticks.  
"Are you alright?" Niall asked softly, rubbing his thumb across Zayn's stubbly cheek and catching it on his lip. "It's okay if you're not, though. 'M just...asking."  
Zayn said nothing in response, just letting himself breathe for a few moments. Niall slowly removed his hand, and he ached at the loss of contact. Niall blinked at him slowly, his own eyes tear stained. But Zayn could feel him stiffening, his face growing firmer. He took a deep breath, sitting up straighter, and what was happening now? Niall looked like he was bracing himself for something.  
"Do it, then." Niall breathed. "You wanna do it, so don't hold yourself back for my sake. I can handle it, I can, I promise." 

And okay, what? Niall was talking like he expected Zayn to punch him in the goddamn face or something. There was many things Zayn wanted to punch, himself included for not putting the pieces together sooner, but Niall was not one of them. He never wanted to make Niall Horan feel any pain: physical, mental, or emotional. Assuming that Niall wasn't talking about punching him in the face, Zayn tried to think of what he could mean, but came up with nothing.  
"Do what?" Zayn asked, feeling his face wrinkle together in confusion. Niall studied him for a couple seconds, cocking his head to the side. A similar expression of uncertainty was on his face. "What are you expecting me to do?"  
"Break up with me." Niall said simply, fighting the waver in his voice. The grip of his arms around Zayn tightened, and he gently smoothed down his rumpled shirt, the warmth of his hand bleeding into Zayn's chest. "You want to, and I don't blame you for it: I've given you every possible reason to-"  
"Woah, woah, Niall." Zayn said hurriedly, feeling anxiety spark in his stomach. This day had been enough of a rollercoaster already. He'd felt nearly every emotion in the emotional spectrum: anger, misery, apathy. But up until right then, fear wasn't one of them. This was an extraordinarily tough time for them, but it'd never crossed his mind that it could be the end of his relationship with Niall. And he certainly wouldn't be initiating it, because fuck, he didn't _want_ it to be the end of them. 

Zayn didn't want to lose Niall. He still wanted Niall, every single part of him. His laughs, his tears. His stupid jokes. His midnight texts that always woke Zayn up but never annoyed him. His beautiful voice. His ability to play so many instruments, more than Zayn could probably name. Zayn wanted his boyfriend, exactly as he was. He wanted the memories Niall had shared with him, and the ones he hadn't. He still wanted to hold Niall when he panicked, and for Niall to be the centre of his portfolio, to be his muse. He wanted Niall's joy, and his pain. He wanted his trauma, his anxiety, his scars. Zayn still wanted his sunshine. 

He still _needed_ his sunshine. 

"Nobody said anything about breaking up." Zayn said as he raised himself up, staying tangled up in Niall's arms. Niall's head was bowed to look at his knees, but at Zayn's words, it snapped up so quickly, he might've given himself whiplash. He stared at Zayn with his mouth falling open, eyes widening.  
"You're not?" he breathed, looking unsure. Zayn shook his head gravely. This was a moment of upmost importance: there was no room for joking or even playfulness now. Nothing could be misunderstood, because any misinterpretation could end them. Niall gasped suddenly, tipping his head back. He rapidly blinked back tears, covering his face with his hands.  
"Then- then-" he started unsteadily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why'd you come here, if not to break up with me? I told Harry I was gonna skip Chem, so I'm assumed he told you and you came to find me."  
"He didn't tell me. I decided to skip too, and was wandering around the halls, and then I just- I just wandering in here." Zayn admitted with a slight shrug. "Heard you playing and wanted to come in."  
"Oh." Niall said, resting his chin on his kneecaps and sighing. "At least Harry can keep a secret then."  
"But Niall," Zayn asked cautiously."Why would me coming here to find you mean I wanted to break up with you?" 

Niall exhaled, turning his head so that his cheek was now on his knee. He was looking at Zayn sideways, a pucker in his cheek from where he was biting it. He looked uncertain of what to say, so Zayn just waited, knowing it would come sooner or later. The two boys were side by side, their shoulders barely brushing. It felt strange not to be touching Niall more, not to have an arm around him or be holding his hand. It was oddly reminiscent of how they used to be, before they were dating. Almost afraid to touch the other too much, in case they bolted away. In case they shattered. Except now, there was a sorrow that hadn't been around before.  
"I thought you were taking a leaf out of Louis' book." Niall said softly. "And breaking up with me where you first kissed me." 

Zayn's breath caught in his throat, because of course that's what Niall thought. It's what Zayn would think too, if he was in his shoes. Zayn pressed a hand to his forehead, his head beginning to pound from all the emotion they'd experienced today, and Niall gave a forlorn smile, sniffling.  
"I thought you wanted to make me hate you, because now, you hated me."  
"I don't-" Zayn started, his voice trembling. "I don't hate you, I can't-"  
"Then you're a better man than me." Niall responded. "Because I hate myself for not telling you. I hate myself for putting you through everything you endured on Saturday. I- I hate myself in general." 

And that was it. That was enough. Zayn slowly put an arm around Niall, tugging him into his chest. Niall tensed in surprise, tilting his head so his chin was pressed against Zayn's sternum. Zayn reached over with a trembling hand and pushed his fringe back, saddened by the familar action. Niall's eyes were wet.  
"Please don't say that." Zayn said, hearing his voice crack. "I'm begging, please don't."  
"It's true." Niall said, closing his eyes and letting two tears slid down his face. "I've felt so good for so long now, my- my depression seemed gone for good. But they say it flares back up and- and it's hitting me hard, Zayn. It's true."  
"Please don't say it, even it's true." Zayn replied, wiping the tears away. Niall looked at him seriously, trying to read him. He worried his tongue between his teeth, air whistling past the spaces when he breathed.  
"How do you still want to be with me?" Niall choked. "Me, a liar? A depressed teenager who can't ever express how he feels? A person with so many insecurities and bad memories and fuck ups that he can't talk to his boyfriend about them? You're- you're glorious. The world should be your oyster, and instead, you're tying yourself to me. You're talented, smart, beautiful..."  
Niall's voice trailed off and he let out a dry sob, burying his head into Zayn's chest. He clung to him tightly, and Zayn ran his hand up and down his spine, trying to calm him. Niall was whispering something into his shirt, and Zayn leaned closer to hear.  
"You're everything." Niall breathed as he pulled back from Zayn, trying to regain control of himself. "You're everything, and I'm nothing, and you still want to be with me, and I don't understand-"  
"You're _my_ everything." Zayn said earnestly, cupping Niall's damp cheeks. "You're everything, and you're mine, and Niall Horan, neither of those things are changing, if I have anything to do with it." 

Niall let out another sob, but this one was accompanied by a watery smile. He dabbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, tipping to the side and resting his body against Zayn's frame. He was so light, Zayn barely felt the pressure of having him there. Reaching down, Zayn took his hand, holding it lightly and interlocking their fingers. Niall responded with a weak squeeze, not seeming able to do much more. Zayn didn't even want more: hand holding was all he can manage too. 

The bell rang above them, signifying the end of the school day. Niall didn't even react, but Zayn stirred himself, wanting to get out of there before anybody found them. He stood up, his knee joints cracking, and Niall put a hand on the back of his calf, rubbing up and down comfortingly. Zayn inwardly rejoiced at the touch, stooping down to offer Niall his hand. He eased him upward, and then they were just standing there, looking at one another.  
"We should probably go." Niall said tiredly, his words blending together. "Teachers and stuff."  
"Yeah." Zayn agreed. 

Neither of them moved first. Zayn gave a foolish smile, which Niall returned, albeit hesitantly. His eyes looked so blue, the kind of blue people write about in poems of the sky, and it didn't hurt. Niall was still beautiful: Niall was still perfect. Zayn wanted to kiss him, he wanted to kiss him desperately, but then thought that'd be pushing the limits. Niall- and Zayn too- had already been pushed enough today. Niall was clearly having the same thoughts, because he bit his bottom lip and rocked back on his heels, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

And then both of them moved at the same time. Niall opened his arms and so did Zayn, the two of them falling into a hug. Zayn tucked his head into the crook of Niall's neck, nosing his face into the hair at his nape. God, that apple shampoo, it'll always kill him. In turn, Niall wrapped his arms around Zayn's waist, his hands warm against his back. They were both shaking and neither bothered to hide it. Niall hooked his chin around Zayn's shoulder, their cheeks pressed together.  
"I'm going to tell Liam, Harry, and Liam soon." Niall whispered. "Would you- would you be willing to help me with that? Because I dunno if I can do it by myself."  
"Of course I'll help you, Niall." Zayn responded, warmth flooding from his head to his feet because Niall still wanted Zayn to help him. "But- do you think you'll tell them- everything?"  
Here, Niall glanced down surreptitiously, looking at his legs. Zayn held his breath, wondering what his answer would be. From experience, he thought it'd be best if Niall only told the other guys one of his major secrets at a time, but he wasn't gonna tell him what to do. If Niall wanted to come  
"I think I'll wait for that one." he said softly, setting Zayn at ease. "That's if I ever decide to tell them all that particular thing about myself."  
"Okay." Zayn said gently. "I promise you, I'll be there, whenever you want to tell them."  
"Thank you." Niall breathed, and Zayn knew he was thanking him for more than just that promise. 

They parted soon after that, Niall heading down one hall and Zayn another. As he moved, Zayn turned on his heels, watching Niall walk away. His head was bowed, his backpack sloping along his shoulders, and Zayn could hear his untied shoelaces hitting the tiled floor from where he stood. Zayn watched him walk away, his heart swelling his chest, because even though Niall and he were now walking in different directions, he knew they were still going the same way. 

 

"Okay, if any of you make any _'yer a wizard, Harry,'_ jokes to me tonight, I will be leaving." Harry said seriously as he stood in front of the TV screen with his hands on his hips. Zayn snickered as he stepped past his friend, putting the first Harry Potter film into the DVD player. Harry shot Zayn a look, pouting.  
"I'm serious!" he said balefully. "I've heard that joke too many times, and all it's variants: yer a lizard Harry, yer a blizzard Harry, yer being scissored Harry..."  
Louis started to laugh uproariously at that, shoving his face into a couch cushion. Harry was startled by the sound, nearly jumping out of his skin. He looked at Louis as he chuckled, a funny expression on his face. It was half happiness and half misery, and Zayn wondered how long it's begin since Harry heard Louis laugh. Louis almost fell off the couch that he was sprawled on as he giggled, and Liam lunged over, grabbing his calf. Harry looked at where Liam's hand touched the bare skin of Louis' leg, and his face soured at the sight. It's not like there was anything but friendship between Liam and Lou, Liam was way too heterosexual for that, but still, Harry was a naturally possessive person. He got jealous extremely easily: so much so that Zayn thought Liam should fear losing that hand. 

Jesus Christ, Zayn just wanted to watch a boy wizard continually defeat a mean bald guy, was that too much to ask? He'd invited everybody over to his house that Saturday night for a "HP Marathon In Which We Educate Niall on the Wonders of the Wizarding World." It was under the ruse that it was about fucking time Niall watched Harry Potter in full, but really, tonight was the night that he planned on telling everybody else about his mother. The only rule Zayn had declared for tonight was that over the course of the evening, they all told each other something they wouldn't normally admit. He hoped this'd provide Niall a good segway into sharing his secret. 

Which didn't mean that Zayn wasn't freaking the fuck out about it. Because he had no idea what would come out of the others' mouths. Looking at his friends, all flopped out in his basement couches, Zayn knew they were all in for an interesting evening. As previously said, Liam and Louis were stretched out top and tail across the main sofa, Louis tickling Liam's feet every so often. Harry had perched himself on the armchair, crossing his arms in a huff. And Niall was sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest. He was leaning against the leg of the only chair left, which Zayn assumed he'd be sitting in.  
"Nialler, I still can't believe you've never seen Harry Potter." Louis said as Zayn hit "Play" on the DVD remote and then went to take his seat. Niall raised his head and stuck his tongue out at Louis, crossing his eyes. Zayn eased himself down into the armchair and Niall turned to look at him, a faint smile on his face. Zayn swallowed, half of him wanting Niall to sit with him and half of him knowing it'd be painful. 

Zayn decided to fuck it, fuck the pain. He had just opened his mouth to ask Niall to share the chair with him when Niall asked Harry to toss him a pillow. Harry obliged and then Niall laid out flat on the carpet. Zayn frowned at his positioning, knowing he couldn't really be comfortable down there. He'd slept on that floor before, after a long night of partying, and it fucked up his back ten different ways.  
"You alright down there, Niall?" Zayn asked, hearing how pained his voice sounded. "The floor's kinda hard, innit?"  
"What? Oh no, I'm good." Niall said with a smile, giving Zayn a thumbs up. "I do this all the time, it relieves the knots in my shoulders."  
"Oh." Zayn said shortly. "Okay."  
Niall gave him another smile and looked back at the TV screen. Zayn brought his legs up onto his armchair, tilting to the side and wrapping an arm around his knees. He gave a little sigh, looking more at Niall lying on the ground than the movie. Niall giggled at they watched Harry Potter trying to steal a Hogwarts letter from his uncle, running a hand through his hair. He then raised his arms over his head, stretching until his muscles popped. Back arching off the floor, his hips rose upward into the air as he moved, revealing the skin of his stomach where his shirt had ridden up. Niall gave a low groan, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and Zayn felt his breath hitch at the motion. And if Niall made that goddamn sound one more time, Zayn might conveniently fall out of his chair and land on his lap. Just conveniently. 

This was gonna be a long night. 

 

By the time _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ rolled around, the boys had long since lost interest. All of them, excluding Niall, had seen the movies multiple times before, and Zayn was the only true fanatic among them. And in turn, Niall had a lot on his mind and wasn't really focusing on the films anyway. So, when Liam grabbed the remote and hit mute, looking ready to share his soul, Zayn wasn't that surprised.  
"So, lads." he began, resting his head on the couch cushion behind him. "Do we wanna kick start that bonding thing now?"  
"Be my guest." Louis said, with an elegant wave of his hand towards Liam. "I'd go first, but as my piece of information is rather shit, I think it's best if someone else does." 

Liam didn't look too bothered by going first though. He actually looked ready to burst with excitement as they all focused in on him. Harry grabbed the lever of his armchair and tugged it up, the chair coming forward. Niall heaved himself upward, waddling over on his knees to sit at the base of the couch. And Zayn stood too, then sitting on the arm of the sofa so he could properly hear. Liam glanced at him, biting on his lip like he was trying to hold the words back. He looked at Zayn nervously, and Zayn gave him a nod of encouragement, reaching over to pat his back. This was new, because usually it took Liam ages to open up about himself. Because he was bullied in primary school, he thought people genuinely didn't care about how he felt or what was new in his life. It warmed Zayn's heart to see how eager he was to share whatever his news happened to be. 

There was silence for a few more moments, everybody breathing heavily and waiting for Liam to speak. He looked at each of them in turn, a happy blush reddening his cheeks.  
"I'm in love with Sophia." he burst out at last. There was stunned silence for a few moments, and Zayn caught Louis' eye. He looked like he'd been thumped over the head, shaken up a couple times, and then thumped again. Probably because he was in the same room as the boy he loved, still loved, and never told. "Love" in general was a risky topic where Louis and Harry were involved, and Zayn hoped they'd hold it together enough to not spoil Liam's happiness. Because he looked so fucking happy, laughing into his hand as he saw all their expressions. One thing Zayn loved about Liam was how his entire face got into his laugh: his mouth widened, his eyes sparkled, his eyebrows went up, the whole deal.  
"At least, I think I'm in love with her." Liam continued, giving another huge grin. "Like, I'm not on the verge of proposing or anything crazy: I haven't even told her."  
Through his peripheral vision, Zayn saw both Louis and Harry stiffen. Harry automatically glued his eyes to the ceiling, not looking at anything but the tiles. Louis, however, glanced at the curly-haired boy, guilt in his every feature. Zayn shut his eyes, praying that they wouldn't lose it on each other. They couldn't take this from Liam, they simply couldn't. There was a long pause, with just Louis looking at Harry and Harry not looking at Louis. Zayn looked at his hands nervously, fiddling with one of the bandages and peeling it off. He didn't know what to do, how to intervene, because he was so happy for Liam, but so sad for Harry and Lou. 

And then Niall saved the day. 

"That's bloody fantastic, Liam!!" he cheered, clasping his hands together. "Like, so, so fantastic."  
"Thank you, Ni." Liam said, turning his shining face to look at the other boy. Niall's face was glowing too, looking truly overjoyed for his friend. Zayn felt himself relax at the sight, Niall's excited smile bringing him peace.  
"How'd you like- figure it out?" Niall asked, sounding curious, and Liam shrugged his shoulders, a blissful grin still adorning his face.  
"I dunno, really. To be fair, I think part of me always knew. She was always more special than any girl I'd ever dated before. I was halfway in love with her before I even knew what was happening me! But then...we were together on Saturday, just walking through town, right? Window shopping, like. And then Sophia paused under a street lamp, and she was wearing this white lace beret, she was smiling, and she looked so beautiful. And all I remember thinking was _I'm in love with you, and I don't know why it took me so long to realize it_." 

Liam gave a happy sigh, resting his chin on his hand. Niall clapped him on the shoulder winningly, his merry smile still present, and Zayn mentally blessed him for being the only one who was reacting appropriately. This was a happy realization for Liam, and except for Niall, they were all acting like their dogs had been shot. And Louis was still looking at Harry.  
"Are you gonna tell her?" Louis said suddenly, turning his head to look at Liam. His blue eyes were bitingly sharp. "Sophia? Are you gonna?"  
"I haven't decided yet." Liam says uneasily, giving a shrug. "I don't know how she'll react, I don't know if- if she feels the same. I almost don't want to find out if she doesn't, because right now, I just feel so happy. So indescribably happy."  
Louis nodded, pursing his lips together. Niall looked at Zayn, the worry he'd been feeling reflecting in his blue eyes. Zayn reached over and put a hand on Niall's shoulder, gripping it tightly. Louis brought his hand to his mouth, chewing down on his nails. Zayn saw Harry's eyes flick to his hand, and he had a feeling that he hated that habit of Louis' as much as Zayn himself hated Niall's thumb biting.  
"You should tell her." Louis said finally, his words sounding mumbled behind his hand. "Please tell her."  
Liam seemed to understand the severity of what he was saying, because he simply nodded. Louis gave a swift nod in return, suddenly standing up from the couch. He walked to the stairs of the basement, turning on his heels to look back at them.  
"I'm gonna go get a drink, before I share my news. Back in a minute. Anybody want anything?"  
Everybody hurriedly shook their heads, but Louis didn't look convinced. He looked at the cup clutched in Harry's hands, trying to see the contents.  
"More water, Hazza?" he asked gently, because of course, Louis knew that that was only (non-alcoholic) beverage that Harry drank.  
"Uhh- it's- it's-" Harry stammered, his eyes widening. "It's actually Gatorade, I'm on a vitamin cleanse right now."  
"Ah, right." Louis whispered. "Well- be back in a mo'."  
Louis rushed up the stairs, his feet loud against the floor. Harry stared after him, driving his nails into the plastic of his cup, and Zayn wondered how long it'd been since Harry heard anybody call him Hazza.

They sat in silence until Louis came back, the only sound being Harry clenching and unclenching his hand around his cup. Lou came clopping back down the stairs, his arms full of water bottles. He passed them around, even opening Niall’s for him when the cap got stuck. And then he walked over to Harry, offering him a blue Gatorade (Safaa inhaled the stuff, so Zayn’s assuming where they got it in the first place).  
“Harry?” he said hopefully, jiggling the bottle a bit in his direction. “You want this?” 

_He wants you, Louis_ , Zayn thought with a shake of his head. _What kind of game are you playing with him?_ There was a long silence while Harry just looked at the drink in front of him. And then he slowly put his hand on top of Louis’ around it. His long fingers were splayed along Louis’ smaller ones, his skin ivory to Louis’ tan. The pad of Harry’s thumb was pressed against the inside of his wrist, and Lou stiffened almost imperceptibly.  
“Thank you.” Harry murmured, his tone gravelly and low. Louis gave a jerky nod and slowly- reluctantly- let go of the bottle, plopping back down into his own seat. Another awkward silence ensued, only being broken when Harry mumbled his news. 

“I’m the senior editor of the yearbook.” He said quietly, peering down into the contents of his drink as he unscrewed the lid. “I know it’s not as awesome as Liam’s, but I still think it’s pretty cool. The moderator, Mr. Zuka, told me last week. So expect loads of embarrassing pictures of you lot in that book.”  
“Haven’t you learned already that I can’t take a bad photo, Harry Styles?” Niall said with a toss of his head. He batted his eyes at Harry winningly, and Harry’s stony face broke, blossoming to be a wide smile. Looking around, Zayn saw that Niall had that effect on everybody, himself included. They were all smiling despite themselves, endeared by Niall’s antics. 

Except those smiles all disappeared as soon as Louis shared his information. 

“My dad’s coming to graduation.” he said to the now silent room. Zayn’s eyes snapped to Louis’ face, feeling shock expand over his own.  
“What?” Zayn said unsteadily, finding his voice after what felt like ages.  
“Yep.” Louis said with a brisk nod of his head. “My mum always sends him an invite to everything I do, and all my sisters too. Except he never actually fucking says yes. Until now, because right as I’m about to leave home and move on in my life, he decides to come waltzing back in. He’ll be sitting there, with my mother, at graduation, watching me receive my fucking diploma and wear the fucking cap, like he’s been around my entire fucking life. Like he did anything to get me there.”

Louis gave an exhausted huff, covering his face with his hands. He don’t sound angry, or even bitter. He just sounded exhausted, like he was physically drained by the whole affair. It sounded bloody exhausting. Zayn couldn’t imagine constantly not knowing where he stood with a person, much less his own father. Constantly wondering if he was gonna come back. Constantly wondering if he was loved or not. It didn’t just sound exhausting: it sounding murderous. 

“That’s fucking _shit_!”

It took Zayn a couple moments to figure out who exactly said that. And when he did, at first he was surprised, but then he really wasn’t.

“That’s fucking shit.” Harry repeated passionately, his eyes burning with fervor. He looked at them all, gritting his jaw as he ran a hand through his curls and gripped them tight. He then gazed at Louis, leaning forward and putting both his hands on Louis' knees. Lou jolted a bit at the contact, not expecting it, but Harry clung on. Zayn held his breath as he waited for Harry to speak again, and speak again he did.  
"Fuck that, and fuck him. He's a dick, that never wanted any of your family, but he especially didn't want his only son. He didn't show you any of the things a dad should. He didn't teach you how to shave, or how to drive. He wasn't there the first time you kissed a girl. He wasn't there the first time you kissed a boy. He never claimed you, and he's always made you feel like shit, he's made you feel like _nothing_." 

Harry paused, taking a deep breath and trying to recollect himself. Zayn barely had time to blink before he started up again though.  
"And you're not nothing." Harry whispered, his voice weakening. He dug his fingertips in Louis' kneecaps, like the pressure could make him understand. Louis was staring at him fearfully, his eyes impossibly big. This moment was just for them: it was like Niall, Zayn and Liam weren't there. And that was probably a good thing, because this conversation seemed to be one they'd had before. In a moment of fragility, Louis must've confided these things in Harry, all those moments he'd wished his dad was around for. And Harry, faithful to a fault, loving to a fault, remembered them perfectly. 

"You're everything, every _fucking_ thing. And he shouldn't get to claim you now, shouldn't get to make you his, now that he's finally gotten his head out of his arse and realized how amazing you are." Harry finished, dropping his head down to lean against Louis' knee. "Fuck that. And fuck him."  
With a trembling hand, Louis reached forward and patted Harry's curls, massaging his temples in a way that must calm him. Harry shuddered, his spine bowing over, and Louis worked two fingers under his chin, raising his head up.  
"Thank you H." he said thickly, and Zayn knew he wasn't imagining the wetness in both their eyes. "Thank you."  
Harry gave a stiff nod, gulping loudly. He stood up and then went back to his seat, grabbing a pillow. He held it to his chest and shoved his face into it, surreptitiously wiping his eyes. Louis bit his lip and cast his eyes away. He exhaled slowly, quickly brushing away his own tears.  
"Anybody else?" he said hurriedly. "Niall? You haven't gone yet, have you?" 

Niall automatically cast a stricken look Zayn's way, terror in his face. He wasn't ready to share, and Zayn agreed that his news should definitely be last, because there'd be meltdowns. Zayn tried to imagine how the other three would react, and found that the answer didn't reassure him. In Zayn's head, it would go like this: Harry would cry, Liam would panic, and Louis would get angry. It's just how all theiy dispositions were, and he knew that they couldn't jump right into that, not after Louis' confession.  
"My portfolio for art school is almost done and I have to submit it to U Arts by May 25, and Ms. Waverly says that all my work is bound to pay off, so that's kinda exciting, yeah?" Zayn babbled, trying to buy time and save Niall. It was a lie, a complete lie. Ms. Waverly said no such thing, and he still had at least five more pieces of art to add. So basically, Zayn was fucked. But the look of complete relief on Niall's face made the deceit worth it.  
"Aww, Z, that's so good!" Liam burbled, seeming happy that the conversation was moving onto easier subjects. (Brace yourself for later Payno) "I'm so proud of you man!"  
"Thanks, mate." Zayn said, turning his head and offering his friend a weak smile. Liam clapped him on the back, and with the moment being over, Zayn looked back over at Niall. And then Harry's and Louis' quiet congratulations at his mock accomplishment fell on deaf ears, because Niall was gone. 

 

After hurriedly putting the film back on and saying that "Niall probably just had to use the toliet or something, I'll go and check if he's alright," Zayn bolted up the stairs. He shut the basement door behind him, worry making his head spin. Had Niall gone home, because he was too stressed? Was he in Zayn's house somewhere, panicking and sobbing? Heart pounding at all the possibilities, Zayn skidded around the corner into his kitchen, nearly slamming into the open closet door. Where the hell was he?

Zayn heard the quiet murmur of the television in the family room, and he peered around the door, narrowing his eyes. His mother was sitting on the couch, her gaze focused on the TV screen. But past her frame, leaning on her shoulder, was a blonde mop. Presumably which Niall was attached to, unless there was another sad blonde boy around the Malik household tonight. Zayn's heart rate slowed at the sight, and he felt emotion surge up in his chest. Niall ran to whom he'd needed most in his moment of fear. A mum. 

The living room was darkly light, the hanging lamp above their heads on its lowest setting. Zayn could barely see his mother and boyfriend in the shadows, but what he could see melted his heart. Tricia was humming under her breath, her hand smoothing a comfortable rhythm through Niall's hair. Niall was curled up in a ball on the couch, his socked feet glaringly white. He leaned into her side, her other arm around his shoulders and holding the remote control. Tricia looked down at Niall, her expression soft. It was the expression she wore around babies, or Zayn's sisters if they did something silly, or even Zayn himself, when he was stressed out and frantic and needed her more than anyone else. 

"Anything you want to watch in particlar, pet?" Tricia asked softly, and Niall shook his head gently. She nodded and continued to stroke his hair, letting the blonde strands slip through her fingers. Niall shut his eyes, his mouth trembling from pent- up emotion. Zayn's mum seemed to sense his agitation, so she slowed her hand.  
"Is there anything you wanted to talk about instead?" she said, trying a different track, and Niall opened his eyes once more. He looked at Tricia nervously, biting his lip and scrunching his face together.  
"Mrs. Malik," he started, "I'm sure Zayn's told you about- Saturday. Or even half of it, which is more than enough."  
"Niall, whatever he told me was just a result of panic. I'm sure Zayn wouldn't mean to betray your trust on purpose, he's like a locked vault with secrets, so if that's what you're worried about-"  
"I know, and I'm not worried or mad or anything." Niall answered with a quick nod. "And I don't mind if he's told you everything. But tonight- I'm supposed to tell everybody else, on my own accord this time. And I'm terrified to do it."  
"That's understandable, Niall." Tricia said, resuming her soothing. "It's a big secret, one that somebody as young as you should never have to bear. And you bear it beautifully. But it's time to let it go, let everyone else help carry this burden that's been dragging you down. That's what friends are for, that's the unspoken promise they make."  
"I think they won't want to be my friends anymore, though." Niall whispered. "I was so lucky to meet them all in the first place. And then I was so lucky that Zayn didn't dump me on the spot. How- how can luck strike me a third time, and make the three boys downstairs still want to be friendly with me? They'll more likely hate me."  
"I don't think anybody could ever hate you, Niall." Tricia said gently. "You're too inherently good for that. And anyway, my son would put them in their grave first." 

They both laughed softly at that, and Zayn felt a blush creep up his neck. Nice to know they felt so comfy talking about him together. Tricia rubbed her hand up and down Niall's shoulder and he leaned into her even more, craving the maternal touch. Zayn suddenly felt desperately sad, because Niall had always gravitated towards his mother. The first time Zayn asked him for dinner with his family, the only thing that got him to say yes was the fact that Tricia was gonna be there. All over again, Zayn kicked himself for not fucking realizing what everything meant.  
"I agree, he probably would." Niall said with a soft smile. "Though he probably shouldn't."  
"Zayn says and does a lot of things he probably shouldn't." Tricia said reflectively. 

_Thanks a lot Mum._

"But being with you is definitely not one of them." 

_Oh. Okay. That's a bit better._

"I've noticed a big change in him since you entered his life. He's gentler. He's calmer. He's more focused. Zayn's always been a bit of a wanderer, and I was worried that he's would just wander through life. But then he met you, and suddenly he had something to pursue, even though it meant staying in place." Tricia said, affection for the both of them in her voice. "I'll catch him smiling at nothing, like the goofiest grin you can imagine, and I just know he's thinking about you. I privately call it the 'Niall Smile,' but don't ever tell him I told you that, or else he'll absolutely die. He's just happier because of you, and he doesn't even notice that he's changed, which is the best kind of change. And let me tell you something, Niall: if you've changed Louis, Liam, and Harry even a fraction of how much you changed my son, then they won't leave you." 

Niall choked a bit and buried his face into her shoulder. Tricia just held him tightly, the way she'd done countless times to Zayn. Niall pulled back from the hug and looked at her with a wet face and a wobbly smile.  
"Your children better appreciate you, Mrs. Malik." he said thickly, rubbing at his eyes, and Zayn's mother chucked him under the chin softly, her eyes fond.  
"They do, I know that." she said. "And really Niall, don't you think it's time you started calling me Tricia?"  
"Okay, Mrs- Tricia." he stammered with a blush as he extracted himself from her arms and stood up. "I better get back down there, but- just- thank you."  
"Of course, Niall." she said gently, touching his arm one last time. "And please, come talk to me whenever you need to. About anything, I've heard it all from my lot. Don't be afraid, okay?"  
"Don't be afraid." Niall repeated, his voice growing firmer. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot, Mrs- Tricia."  
"Tricia." she responded with a nod and another smile. "Now, go. I can see Zayn standing behind that door, and he looks like a hen trying to lay an egg, poor thing." 

_Shit._

"Mum!" Zayn exclaimed, wanting to beat his head against the door as Niall's head snapped up to peer at him. "As if this wasn't embarrassing enough, oh my god."  
"Sorry, Zaynie." she said with a laugh. "Now, seriously, the two of you go downstairs and check to make sure that scalawag Louis hasn't caught fire to my curtains. Again."  
Niall chuckled, a bounce reappearing in his step as he walked towards Zayn. Despite his ever-growing mortification, he felt himself grin as Niall stepped closer. Offering his boyfriend his hand, Niall took it, interlocking their fingers tightly.  
"There it is! There's the Niall smile!"  
" _Mum_." Zayn groaned as Niall burst out laughing, shoving his face into Zayn's bicep. And really, Zayn couldn't find it in himself to be angry at her. Because she'd made his boy smile again when Zayn couldn't. 

And then they went back into the basement, where everybody else was patiently waiting for them. Zayn sat down in the same chair as before, but this time, Niall joined him, clinging onto his hand the entire time as he started to speak. And then he just told them. He wasn't dramatic, wasn't even emotional. Niall started the story from the end, Zayn finding him on Saturday, and then worked backwards to the beginning. Zayn couldn't bring himself to listen a second time, so instead he focused on the feeling of Niall's hand in his and how Niall's exhales fell into synch with his inhales. 

Zayn had assumed his friend's reactions to the news, but he'd gotten in wrong. There was anger from all three of them, there was panic from all three of them, there was tears from all five. Needless to say, they didn't watch anymore Harry Potter that night, just talking through everything and trying to reassemble their entire world. But in the end, past the panic, the anger, the pain, there was only one emotion left: understanding. They all understood, or at least they were all trying to, and that had to be enough. No one could ask more. 

 

A week later, Zayn found himself on a ferry with his best friends and his boyfriend, heading towards Ireland for spring break, and he was still trying to convince himself that deciding to visit Maura Horan's grave was a good idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Also, when did this story get so long? Somebody needs to stop me XD)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *says that I'll be updating more frequently now that it's summer* 
> 
> Also Me: *doesn't post in almost a month* 
> 
> I'm so sorry guys XD My life has been nuts: I went on retreats, went on vacation, I had boy drama (!!!!!!!), and basically I suck and couldn't find time to write. Also, this chapter was supposed to be their entire trip to Ireland, but then I got more and more ideas, and decided that having just one chapter to that would be too crammed and I couldn't go into as much detail as I wanted. (Plus, it would've taken forever to write and post as one, and I got too impatient.) 
> 
> So, here's this chapter. It's kinda a mess, but better things will happen in the next one. Hopefully it won't take as long again XD Tell me what you think!!! You're all stars :3

In the midst of their planning for spring break, Zayn might’ve forgotten a certain detail. It was a rushed week, in which the five of them scrambled to get transportation, hotel accommodation, and their parents’ permission to even go to Ireland (well, technically they only needed Mr. Horan’s, because the other four were all eighteen. But they’d figured it’d be best if they asked anyway. Especially since Louis said his mum would “chop off his balls and feed them to vultures” if he didn’t get her permission). It was a chaotic mess, and only a single detail slipped Zayn’s mind. It was tiny, really. In the grand scheme of things, it was positively miniscule. But right then, as he stood on the deck of a ferry and watched the coastline of England fade away, it was pretty huge. 

Zayn forgot that he’s fucking terrified of water. 

And okay, maybe it’s not tiny. It’s never been a small fear of Zayn’s: it’s always been one of his biggest. One of his earliest memories was as a three year-old in his first ever swim class, screaming bloody murder every time his foot so much as grazed the water. Eventually, Tricia had given up and brought him home, and he hadn’t gone back. He was basically a grown man, and he didn’t know how to swim, which was kinda embarrassing. 

Embarrassing or not, it’s never been enough to make Zayn brave the water. It’s not just a little quirk of his. It’s a legitimate crippling fear. As in, _oh holy shit, it’s so dark and deep and chaotic and I’ll go down there and I won’t be able to breathe and I’ll never come back up._ Pools he can somewhat manage now. He’s gone with Louis and his family to the local pool a few times, and he’d had a decent time. He never went any deeper than his waist, preferring to paddle around with Daisy and Phoebe in the shallow end, but he still had a decent time. But large bodies of water, like lakes and ponds and even streams, freaked him out. And the ocean, the thing that unfortunately covered 70% of the earth’s surface, scared Zayn like nothing else. There were sharks down there, and squids, and riptides. Plus, who knew how deep that shit went? Atlantis had to go _somewhere._

Zayn stood on the deck of the ferry, his stomach flipping over and over as he looked down at the passing waves. White, foamy water sprayed up from the sea and landed on the wood, and Zayn flinched away from it, trying to remind himself why he was putting himself through this. They’d picked the ferry as their transportation to Ireland for three reasons: 

It was an infinitely cheaper journey (albeit longer).   
Louis said neither hell nor high water would get him onto an aeroplane.   
Niall didn’t want to go unless all five of them were with him. 

So here they were. Liam was scampering around the deck, talking to all the workers, Snapchatting Sophia his every move, and trying to memorize the many safety regulations. Harry had gone below decks as soon as they stepped aboard. He’s not afraid of water, every time Zayn’s gone swimming with him he’s been a right water baby, splashing around with his ridiculously long limbs like an otter. But as soon as his feet left solid ground, Harry’s face went green. Zayn assumed that he was seasick currently, and probably puking his guts out. Poor guy. 

Louis was on the deck too, right at the prow of the ship. His arms were thrown out to the side, fists raised in the air. Earlier, he’d screamed the classic “I’m the king of the world!” line from _Titanic_. Part of Zayn was now thinking that that opportunity was the only reason he wanted to travel by boat at all. And if that’s the case, then Louis would be getting a harsh talking to later. Cliche movie quotes and a mild physical similarity to (and obsession with) Leonardo Di Caprio were not worth Zayn fearing for his life. Watching the ferry move forward directly was making Zayn’s heart putter, so he cast his eyes away, looking along the railings of the boat. And as he looked, his heart almost stopped completely. 

Niall was leaning precariously over the railing his arms, outstretched towards the ocean. It looked like he was trying to touch the water, straining to even graze his fingers along it. His legs were braced against the rail, and Zayn could hear Niall’s merry laugh as he wobbled to and fro, the wind buffeting him. Zayn gasped aloud as Niall leant dangerously forward, his arms windmilling to keep his balance. 

_Fuck no fuck no fuck no fuck no._

Zayn’s fear for Niall’s safety outweighed his own fear of water. Gritting his teeth, he strode forward, crossing the ferry in a few steps. He lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Niall’s waist, hauling his boyfriend away from the rail. At first, Niall stiffened in shock at the touch, probably wondering who was attacking him from behind. But he soon relaxed, leaning into Zayn and letting him drag him further away.   
“Worried about me or something, Malik?” Niall asked affectionately, turning in Zayn’s arms so they could look at each other. Zayn let out a shaky breath, giving a short nod as Niall’s cheery eyes gazed at him. He was worried about everyone on this trip, they were all struggling with their own things, but Niall in particular. Being in Ireland, in his hometown, in the last place he saw his mother alive, was undoubtedly going to be an emotional experience for him. Zayn was bracing himself to see those cheery eyes fade away and well up with tears. 

This morning, as they piled up in Louis’ van and headed to the port, Mr. Horan came to talk to them. Well, really to talk to Zayn. Niall had been putting his suitcase in the boot of the vehicle when Zayn jumped out of the car to talk to his father. Mr. Horan had only said one thing, but it struck Zayn deeply.   
“Please keep him safe.”

Zayn knew how big this was, how much trust Mr. Horan was putting in him. He was letting his son go on a trip with four others guys, to his home country. They all had originally wanted Mr. Horan to come with them, because they thought he should visit Maura’s grave with his son, but he’d declined. He wanted Niall to do it alone, as a sign of trust, love, and maturity. Which Zayn had to agree with, in the end. But Mr. Horan had already lost a beloved family member tragically, and Zayn knew that if anything happened Niall, it would kill the older man. 

He also knew that if anything happened Niall, it would kill Zayn too. But that was besides the point. Zayn was going to do everything to keep Niall safe on this trip, even if it meant diving into the Irish Sea after him. 

“Zayn? Petal?”

Niall’s voice drew Zayn out of his thoughts, and he gave himself a slight shake, bringing himself back to reality. He looked down again and gave Niall a smile that felt forced. His hands on Niall’s waist were shaking with nerves, and Niall covered them with his own, trying to make them go still.   
“Are you alright?” Niall asked softly, raising his head to look Zayn directly in the eyes. His expression was inquisitive and gentle, his hands even gentler. Zayn couldn’t meet his gaze, because he was still too scared. The floor was moving beneath their feet, and a vessel made of steel shouldn’t fucking float, and even Niall’s tender touch couldn’t mollify him.   
“I- uh-” Zayn began weakly, shutting his eyes as they went over a wave. He stumbled slightly, feeling his knees knock, and Niall gripped him tighter, his nails digging into his elbows. “I’m afraid of water. I can’t swim.”

Niall’s eyebrows flew up in surprise, and he gave a shocked little giggle, covering his mouth with his hand. Zayn groaned as more water slopped up onto the deck, and he grabbed for Niall’s hand again, bringing it back to his shoulder. He hung his head, feeling embarrassment at the dependency flood through him. Niall’s amused expression instantly disappeared, being replaced with fresh worry.   
“Zayn, babe, look at me.” he said softly, slowly bringing a hand to Zayn’s chin and raising his head. “It’s okay if you’re afraid of water. I’m afraid of basically everything, and you’ve always handled that effortlessly. Look at me, and breathe with me, okay?”

Zayn gave a jerky nod, finally meeting Niall’s eyes once more. They were heavy-lidded and soft, looking more gray than blue today. With a start, Zayn realized that they were the exact color of the ocean all around them, shifting and changing color with the tides. Was Niall Horan even a person, or was he a piece of nature? One of the very base elements: made of sunshine and stardust and fire and the sea. 

Maybe water wasn’t so bad. Zayn wouldn’t be getting into it any time soon, but maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Niall cupped Zayn’s cheeks, rubbing his thumbs across them soothingly. He gave Zayn a reassuring smile, a crooked tooth popping out over his bottom lip. Niall took a deep breath, nodding at him to copy the motion, so Zayn did, feeling his lungs expand and then deflate with air. They did this a few more times, Zayn feeling calmer and calmer with each breath.   
“There you go.” Niall said encouragingly as Zayn exhaled one last time and finally opened his eyes. “Now, I’m going to bring you beneath the deck now, okay? You might like it better there. It’s a tighter space, and you can’t see the waves.”  
“That might be good, yeah.” Zayn mumbled compliantly, letting Niall steer him towards the door. They gave Liam a wave, who snapped a quick photo of them, and then Niall opened the door, beckoning Zayn to go down first. 

It was a narrow staircase leading downstairs, and Zayn gripped the handrails tightly, clopping down the steps slowly. Niall put a hand on the back of Zayn’s neck, giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze. They reached the final step, and then Niall took Zayn’s hand, leading him forward. They went down a corridor and then into another room, where a set of bunks were. It was something out of an sea adventure novel: narrow, uncomfortable slats of wood on the wall. Zayn could see Harry’s adored camera on the top bunk, stored away for safe keeping. Probably so he wouldn’t get vomit on it, because the toilet was off to the left, and Zayn could hear him hurling from where he stood. 

“There, now you have lovely background noise to block out the waves.” Niall joked as Zayn eased himself down onto the bottom bunk and laid flat across it. Zayn gave a weak smile, shutting his eyes and blowing out another breath. He could still hear the waves slapping against the ferry. Niall corded his hand through Zayn’s hair and rubbed circles into his scalp, pushing his fringe back from his forehead.   
“Your hair’s getting long, petal.” he said quietly, and Zayn gave a small laugh, enjoying the caress.   
“My mum’s on my case everyday about it. She’ll take a scissors to my head next. Maybe I’ll just shave my head to get her off my back.”  
“Don’t.” Niall said hurriedly, his voice scratchy. “It’s- uh- it’s good like this. You look- well, you look-”  
‘I look what?” Zayn asked curiously, cracking an eye open. “Disheveled? Ruggedly handsome? Like a punk?”  
“Sexy.” Niall blurted out, his cheeks flushing bright red. “You look sexy with your hair like that.”   
“Oh, do I?” Zayn asked, delighted at his compliment and his sheepishness. “Do explain, Nialler, because I don’t really agree.”

Quick as a blink, Niall had swung himself on Zayn’s lap, all reticence he had now gone. He grabbed Zayn’s hands and pressed them flat against the bunk, over his head. Leaning down, he put his mouth to Zayn’s ear, his breath hot. His chest was pressed flush to Zayn’s, and Zayn felt himself gasp, because this was the closest they’d been in two weeks. They hadn’t even kissed since March 3rd, in the melee of that week and then planning for spring break. And now Niall’s elbows were framing Zayn’s head, and his knees were tight against Zayn’s hips, keeping him in place. Not that Zayn was moving anywhere; he was absolutely frozen.   
“You look sexy with your hair like that.” Niall whispered, the words painfully slow. His accent alone, already thickening the closer they got to Ireland, made Zayn’s cheeks heat up. “So fucking sexy. It looks like somebody was just running their hands through it, tugging at it, twisting it around their fingers to ground themselves. To ground themselves as you- as you-”

Niall’s voice trailed off, and his eyes flicked down to Zayn’s collarbone when he gulped, hard. Niall grinned wolfishly, dimples popping up immediately. He glanced down further, at where their hips slotted up on the bunk, looking inspired. He ground his hips down forcefully, chuckling at Zayn’s sudden groan. God, he was weak. Mild dirty talk and minimal grinding had him falling to pieces. And also hard as a rock. 

Niall wasn’t much better though, which made Zayn feel like less of a hormonal teenager. (Which they both were, but being reminded of the fact was rather disheartening). Niall’s cheeks got more and more flushed as he moved, creeping up his neck. He let out a trembling breath, raising one of his hands and gripping onto Zayn’s fringe. Niall gave it a gentle tug, and Zayn let out a breathy moan that he knew he’d deny later.   
“Niall.” Zayn whispered hoarsely, his throat dry. “What’re you trying to do to me?”  
“Distract you.” Niall responded breathlessly. “Is it working?”   
Zayn nodded hurriedly, unable to speak, as Niall curled his hair around his fingers. He rutted his hips downward again, increasing the friction between them, and Zayn whimpered, low in his throat. Wearing jeans had definitely been a mistake, because they added pressure that Zayn seriously didn’t need in that current moment. Zayn’s eyes travelled to Niall’s plump lips, every part of him aching to feel them against his own.   
“Could you maybe- distract me more?” he asked, finding his voice. Niall looked at him, arching an eyebrow. He stopped whatever motions he had been doing before, and Zayn wanted to scream _Don’t stop don’t stop please don’t stop please I fucking need you._  
“What do you mean, Zayn?” he asked teasingly, unhideable mirth in his tone. “You’re gonna have to be more direct. Just ask.”  
Zayn felt a thrill run down his spine at those words, and he let out a frustrated huff, dropping his head back against the bunk. He screwed his eyes tightly shut, trying to ignore the warm weight of Niall on top of him. The space was small, Niall’s head brushing the bunk above them, and there was just too much of everything at once. He was amazed (and somewhat humiliated) by how much he liked Niall being in control. Maybe because it was so out of character. Niall tended to just go with the flow, and yet here he was, penning Zayn in with his body and telling him to ask. 

“Kiss me.” Zayn said at last. “Kiss me, Niall.”  
Niall grinned wickedly, shaking his head. He leaned in again, hovering with his mouth centimeters away from Zayn’s. Zayn strained his head upward to connect them, but Niall put a hand on his chest and held him back.   
“You could ask nicely, you know.” Niall said nonchalantly and Zayn mumbled a curse under his breath. Niall tapped his nose in admonishment, giggling in a way that was too cute for the situation they were in. His button nose scrunched up, and he pressed his lips together, stifling his laughter. If Zayn didn’t get to kiss him soon, he’d lose his sanity. There was only one thing for it.   
“Please kiss me, Niall.” Zayn breathed. “Please.” 

Niall pressed his fingertips to Zayn’s cheek, and Zayn shut his eyes as he waited for Niall to close the distance between them. He let out a sigh as Niall shifted his weight on the bunk, anticipating the sweet, soft brush of lips against his. Hopefully, it’d turn into something a bit more passionate, Zayn was still feeling too turned on for the kiss to be just a simple peck. He reached down, placing his hands on Niall's thighs and trying to hold him back from wriggling around on Zayn's waist. 

And then Niall scrambled off the bunk, nearly falling out of it in his haste to get off. He landed on his feet and gasped out a breath, his face contorted in something that Zayn could only call pain. Realization hit Zayn like a punch to the throat, taking his breath away with its severity. It was too similar to what Niall had done in the library in February. He jumped off Zayn's lap because he'd held onto the waistband of his jeans, and at the time, Zayn thought it was because he was inexperienced. But that wasn't it. 

There were two possibilities. The first, that Niall was hiding his scars from Zayn, was painful but he kinda already knew that. After all, he'd hidden them from Zayn for five months, and hadn't even meant for Zayn to find out. They'd probably still be a secret if Zayn hadn't helped him get changed. But the second, the thought that Niall was in pain from Zayn's touch, was agonizing, in a way that weighed down on Zayn's very soul. 

Because why would Niall be hurting, if they were just scars? 

Zayn felt bile rise up in his throat, and he prepared himself to be joining Harry in the toilet very soon. He and Niall were just staring at each other, matching expressions of guilt on both their faces. Zayn could feel his heart beating too quickly, and he let out a shaky breath. Niall bit his lip in distress, shoving his hands deep into his jean pockets.   
" 'M gonna go back up now." he mumbled, not meeting Zayn's eyes. He straightened his spine, drawing himself up to his full height. Zayn couldn't speak, so he gave a single nod, watching as Niall turned away and slowly went back up the stairs. He didn't look back. But Zayn didn't know if he couldn't, or if he simply wouldn't. 

Zayn just laid there on the bunk, his folded hands pressed to his stomach. He stared up at the wooden planks above his head, his mind surprisingly blank. There were only so many things Zayn could handle at one time, and what just happened wasn't one of them. Instead, he focused on the rocking of the ferry, amazingly finding comfort in the constant rhythm. Zayn shut his eyes, letting it lull him into a peaceful state of oblivion. 

Which only lasted so long. He woke up as he heard somebody loudly clopping down the stairs. Eyes flying open, Zayn felt his heart leap in his chest, because was Niall coming back already? Turning on his side, he narrowed his eyes, looking at the pair of legs heading downwards. And thankfully, they didn't belong Niall. It was Louis: Zayn could tell by the unlaced trainers, ragged jeans, and general sense of chaos that followed him everywhere. He brought the smell of the sea breeze with him, and Zayn felt his stomach churn, reverting back to his original state of terror. 

Zayn quickly feigned sleep as Louis got closer to him, because he didn't know how he'd handle a conversation with him right now. He'd most likely seen Niall up above, saw that something was wrong, and because he's Zayn's best friend and it's sorta in the best friend rule book, came to talk to him about it. When Niall told the others about his mother, Louis had been shocked, yes. But he'd recovered the quickest of the three of them, and this plan to go to Ireland was actually his idea first. And that night at Zayn's house, as everyone was leaving, Louis pulled Zayn aside. He hadn't said much, just hugged Zayn and asked if he was okay. Not Niall, but Zayn. He seemed to understand, without being told, how fucked up Zayn was about the whole thing. 

But to his surprise, Louis completely bypassed Zayn on the bunk. Which had to mean he came down here for a different reason, because if he really wanted to talk to Zayn, he'd shake him awake until he was fully conscious and nattering away. Louis' persistent like that. But right then, he was persistent about something else. 

Some _one_ else. 

Through barely open eyelids, Zayn saw Louis cross the room in quick, nimble strides. He went to the door of the toliet and pressed his ear against it, listening intently. He frowned deeply at the sound of Harry, his face looking pained. Louis took a deep breath, trying to steel himself, and then put a hand on the locked doorknob, jiggling it up and down a couple times.   
"Harry?" he asked quietly. "Harry, wanna let me in?"   
There was silence for a few seconds, Harry's vomiting ceasing momentarily. He coughed loudly, sounding hoarse, and Zayn felt his stomach twinge in sympathy. Louis was waiting patiently for an answer, and Zayn prayed that Harry would give him one, would swallow his pain and take the help he needed.   
"No." Harry replied thickly, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. He probably was. "I don't need your help, Louis. It's just a little seasickness. I'm fine."   
"You're not fine." Louis said firmly, looking determined. "You've probably thrown up your last five meals. Please let me in. Somebody needs to hold your hair and rub your back and stuff."   
"No, they don't." Harry said wretchedly. "Just leave me be, it'll pass sooner that way. I'll meet you guys back upstairs."   
"Harry, I know you, and I know it won't. You won't stop being sick until the minute this goddamn boat hits the Irish coastline. Please let me help you, Hazza-"   
" _Don't_." Harry groaned weakly, sounding desperate. Zayn shut his eyes in horror: that fucking nickname. Louis just couldn't stop using it. He didn't even realize he did it, because he stared at the door in confusion, looking shocked at Harry's outburst.   
"Don't what?" he asked. "What did I do?"   
"You can't call me that anymore." Harry said with a dry sob. "You just can't, okay? I don't call you "BooBear" anymore, do I? So, please, for the love of God, don't call me Hazza. Because it makes me think- it makes me think that things could go back to the way they used to be. Or worse, for a couple seconds, it makes me think that things never changed." 

Louis inhaled sharply, pressing his head against the door. He took a quick gasp of air, passing a hand down his face and shaking as he tried to regain control of himself. And then, as he moved his hand away, his expression stole Zayn's breath. He looked utterly resigned, like he knew he had to accept this. And then Zayn realized something: Louis had known he was calling Harry Hazza. He was perfectly aware of the nickname, knew how much it probably hurt the both of them, but he just couldn't stop himself. Maybe because for a couple seconds, it made Louis think that things never changed too.   
"Harry." he said softly. "If you let me in right now, I promise you that I'll never call you that again."   
"You promised me you'd never break my heart." Harry whispered back. "When we first- started. You said that because you weren't my boyfriend, I didn't have to worry about getting my heart broken by you."   
"Harry, please." Louis choked brokenly, and Zayn could see tears in his eyes. "I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant to-"   
"I let you." Harry breathed. "I knew what I was getting into, everybody warned me. Deep down inside, I knew you'd break my heart, break me, and I let you."   
Harry swallowed deeply, and Zayn heard him shuffling around. Louis tipping his head back to the ceiling, mumbling silent words under his breath. Was he praying? Was he begging?   
"Just like I'm going to let you in right now, and let you hold my hair, and let you rub my back." Harry said, his voice tinged with resignation of his own. "Because I've never been able to say no to you, because you make me weak, because I can't fucking stop loving you." 

With a click, the lock turned and the toilet door swung open. Louis scampered inside, like he was worried Harry would change his mind and slam it in his face. He didn't close it behind him, so Zayn saw Harry waddle on his knees back towards the toilet bowl, another bout of vomiting coming on. And Louis, true to his word, held back his curls, rubbing circles onto the younger boy's temples with his fingers. He then put the palm of his right hand on Harry's spine, rubbing up and down tenderly. He even sang, which surprised Zayn. Louis wasn't really confident in his voice, despite loving to sing, and he rarely let anyone hear him. But this was Harry, and Zayn figured that if anyone got to hear, it was him. Granted, Louis was half-humming, and most of the words were unintelligible, but he was still singing for Harry. Maybe even to Harry. 

"What song is that?" Harry mumbled, shutting his eyes in exhaustion. He braced his arm against the toilet bowl and then rested his head against his forearm. "I've never heard it before."   
"It's- It's just something I wrote awhile ago." Louis said uncomfortably, his face tight. Zayn stifled a gasp, because _shit_ , that must've been the song Louis showed Zayn in his room, all those weeks ago. The song about Harry, about how Harry made Louis strong. He must've finished the lyrics and put them to a melody.   
"Can you sing it again?" Harry whispered, a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin. "Louder this time, because- because your voice is too good to be muted." 

Louis gulped loudly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Harry didn't seem to notice his agitation, but Zayn definitely did. He glanced around himself a few times, looking unsure and unconfident. But then he looked at Harry again, seeing how tired he looked. And Zayn knew that if Louis believed that his singing would make Harry feel better, maybe even for a second, then he'd do it in a heartbeat.   
"Alright." he said, keeping a hand on Harry's back while the other tugged at his own hair. Louis cleared his throat, and then looked up at the ceiling, fixating his eyes there to probably try and calm his nerves.   
" _My hands, your hands, tied up like two ships. Drifting weightless, waves trying to break it. I'd do anything to save it. Why is it so hard to say it_?" Louis sang, still quietly but more confidently this time. The verse had a steady beat, thrumming along like a boat on water, propelled by the sails that were the words.   
" _My heart, your heart, sit tight like book ends. Pages between us, written with no end. So many words we're not saying. Don't wanna wait till it's gone. You make me strong_." 

Zayn felt chills erupt over him, because Louis could write. He could really, _really_ write, in a way that Zayn had never really understood before. Sure, he'd known Louis was a story-teller. The reason any of them were friends in the first place was because Louis made up ridiculous yarns about their peers and broke the ice. But he had a way with words that Zayn never realized: an eloquence to his expressions that showed the soul of a poet beneath the surface. He was telling their story, the story of Harry and Louis, through song. 

" _I'm sorry if say I need you, but I don't care: I'm not scared of love. But when I'm not with you, I'm weaker. Is that so wrong? Is it so wrong, that you make me strong_?" Louis sang, beginning to belt the refrain with more confidence. He was a true tenor, all his notes are light and airy. Harry seems transfixed, managing to raise his head up and gaze at Louis. At the sight of Harry's eyes on him, Louis' voice faltered, and he shut his mouth. They just stared at each other, Louis gulping nervously.   
"That was beautiful, Louis." Harry whispered, leaning into his touch on his back. "Thank you."   
Louis smiled faintly, a slight blush coloring his cheeks at Harry's praise. He ran a hand through Harry's sweat-soaked curls, biting his lip. To Zayn, it looked like he was debating saying something, and Zayn stifled a gasp, because what if he was about to say it? Say what he should've said from the start, say what Harry never got to hear, say what he knew he felt?

Was Louis about to tell Harry he loved him?

Louis took a deep breath, screwing his face together. He knelt down, turning Harry to the side and cupping his face with his hands. Harry blinked up at him, alarm in his features. Louis leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Harry's forehead, lingering there for a few moments.   
"You still make me strong." Louis breathed, his voice cracking. "And you always will."   
And with that, he was gone, letting go of Harry and running out of the room, back upstairs. From his bunk, Zayn could see the tears already coursing down his cheeks. Harry gave a broken whimper, resting his head on his knees and wrapping his arms around himself. He rocked back and forth in a ball, openly sobbing. Where Louis tried to hide his tears, Harry let them come. He welcomed them, and knew they'd bring healing. 

But maybe today, he just couldn't stop the tears, whether he welcomed them or not. Because Louis still hadn't said it, didn't say those three words that Harry deserved, wanted, needed. But singing _Strong_ was the closest he'd ever come, and Zayn knew Louis wouldn't ever get as close again. 

 

Ireland was _gorgeous_. 

Like gorgeous enough that Zayn could almost rationalize the terror-inducing ferry ride. (Only almost though: Ireland's beauty didn't stop him from falling to his knees and kissing the ground with relief once they'd docked.) Everything was just so green. Zayn's artist's heart almost wept with all the shades, his hands itching to grab paint and try to recreate every single one of them. 

Zayn just stood by the dock, breathing in the salty air and marveling at the beauty around them. Huge mountains framed the horizon, the weak sun peeking out behind them, and that didn't even make sense, because what kind of country has mountains right beside the beach? They heaved their suits cases off the ferry and stood patiently beside a road, waiting for a taxi. Harry was right beside Zayn, looking miserable, and Zayn frowned sadly. Normally, Harry would be ecstatic about something like this, running all around the place with his camera swinging on his neck. He'd probably convince them to climb those mountain with him just to get photos of the view. But right now, he looked shaky and ill, a furrow of pain between his eyebrows. 

Moved by the sight, Zayn put an arm around Harry, patting his back soothingly. Harry gave Zayn a weak smile, trying to look brave, but then his face crumpled again, and he looked at his feet, fighting tears. Zayn put a hand on the nape of Harry's neck, giving it a squeeze. The material of his camera strap was rough against Zayn's fingers.   
"H," he said comfortingly. "Why don't you take a picture of something?"   
"Of what?" he croaked, rubbing at his damp eyes with the back of his hand.   
"I dunno." Zayn said easily. "Something you find beautiful." 

Harry looked around for a few moments, taking in the scene around him. He glanced at the ferry bobbing on the water, and then shook his head. Harry then instead focused back on his companions. His gaze lingered on Louis for a few moments, a tortured expression on his face. But then Harry turned back to Zayn, raising his camera up to eye level, and snapped a photo of his surprised face.   
"You big softie." Zayn said affectionately, blinking as the camera flash momentarily blinded him. Harry gave a small smile, but at least it looked real. He looked at the miniature version of the picture on the screen, his smile widening.   
"It's a good one." he said softly. "You're very photogenic, Zayn."   
"Oh, no I'm not." Zayn said bashfully, feeling himself redden.   
"Yes you are!" Harry insisted. "I'm serious: you could model." 

At that moment, Niall came striding over, yanking his suitcase along behind him. He looked distracted, not meeting Harry or Zayn's eyes. With a jerk of his head, he pointed with his chin towards the waiting yellow cab.   
"Taxi's here." he muttered, already turning around and walking back to it. He was off, totally and utterly off. Despite the sad circumstance of them being here, Zayn assumed that once Niall actually stepped foot on Irish soil, he'd be bouncing off the walls to visit all his old haunts. But that didn't seem to be the case. Niall was downright gloomy, probably from the incident between himself and Zayn earlier. 

Zayn watched Niall saunter away, worry for his boyfriend swirling around his head. Beside him, Harry carefully closed the shutter of his camera and gave Zayn a gentle smile. It seemed like his spirits were slightly raised, which made Zayn feel accomplished. They walked over to the car together, Zayn wondering how they were gonna work out the sitting arrangement. He assumed Niall wouldn't want to sit next to him, given everything, and Louis and Harry definitely couldn't sit anywhere near each other. 

The way it worked out, Niall sat in the passenger seat, so he could direct the driver to their final destination. Louis was behind Niall against the left window, his face pressed against the glass to take in the beautiful surroundings. Fortunately, Harry was against the other window, doing the exact same thing. Zayn could see his brain whirring, making landmarks to take photos of later. Liam was next to Louis, sharing the middle seat with Zayn. It was tight quarters, definitely, but it worked out for the best. And everytime Harry's eyes strayed away from the window and to Louis, Zayn put a reassuring hand on his knee. 

From his seat, Zayn had a diagonal view of Niall. He was leaning back in his seat, chatting with the driver. But his voice sounded strained, his words more clipped and less musical than normal. Every so often, he looked at the four boys sitting in the back seat, checking up on them. Once, Zayn raised his head at the wrong moment and their eyes locked. The blue of his gaze was still stormy, matching the sudden rain that had flared up outside. Zayn had known he was wrong to find serenity in their depths. Niall bit his lip, tearing his eyes away from Zayn's. He glanced around shiftily, looking at Zayn's hand on Harry's leg. And then Niall turned back in his seat, hunching forward and focusing on the road. He didn't check up on them again. 

 

By the time they reach their accommodation, a little bed and breakfast on the outskirts of the town, it was dusk, long shadows stretching on every street corner. The boys piled out of the taxi and Niall paid the driver while the others grab their cases. They walked up the long drive on weary legs, dragging their bags behind them. After a day that'd been emotionally and physically exhausting, Zayn was ready for his bed. He'd sleep on the floor if need be. Liam rung the doorbell and they were let inside by a heavy-set older man named Declan. He gave them a warm smile, his blue eyes twinkling merrily.   
"Your room is upstairs, down the hall, on the left. It's number four."   
Probably sensing that Liam was the most responsible of the group, he handed him the room key. Liam profusely expressing his thanks and then the five of them started up the stairs, Zayn bringing up the rear.   
"Breakfast starts at eight and goes until ten." Declan called after them as they went up the stairs. "There's all types of things, but my wife'll be offended if you don't choose her traditional Irish breakfast. She's got a temper, so I'd advise ye to go with that."   
They all chuckled, Zayn imagining a little old lady coming after them with her frying pan and screaming about eggs. They reached the top of the landing and went down the hallway. There were ten rooms in the bed and breakfast, and the boys had rented one for them all to share. It'd be cramped, but at least they got a bed each. 

Or they thought they did. Upon entering room four, they saw that that wasn't really the case. There was a place for each of them to rest their heads, yes, but they'd be sharing beds. There were two king-sized mattresses, and then one camp bed off in the corner. There's an awful moment when they all looked at each other, debating what to do. A month ago, it would've been easy: Niall and Zayn in one bed, Louis and Harry in the other, and then Liam on the camp bed. They wouldn't have even to think about it, they would've just done it. But now, with Louis and Harry broken up, and Niall and Zayn strained beyond belief, there was no alternative that wouldn't hurt someone. 

Harry was the first to move. He hauled his bag over to the single bed, tossing the pillow under his arm ontop of it.   
"I'll take this one." he mumbled, averting his eyes away from them. "I talk in my sleep, so-"  
"No." Louis said quickly, sounding pained. "You can't sleep there, Harry."   
"Why not?" he asked, raising his head to look at Louis. His face was surprisingly clear, a challenge in his green eyes. "Why can't I?"   
"Your back." Louis replied, his voice faltering. "You've got a bad back, you need to sleep on a proper mattress. That thing'll incapacitate you, you won't be able to move tomorrow morning."   
Harry cringed, biting his bottom lip. He glanced at the bed and then back at them, looking unsure. It seemed like he was debating with himself, because he knew Louis was right, but he didn't want to admit he was right. But finally, he grabbed his suitcase and dragged it over to one of the king beds, the one right beside the window.   
"Niall." he said quickly, like he needed to get it said. "Bunk with me, yeah?"   
Niall nodded hurriedly, walking over to the bed and tossing himself down on it. He grabbed Harry's hand and tugged him down beside him. Louis and Zayn both quickly looked away. Liam noticed their agitation and reached for Louis, tugging him towards the other bed. So that left Zayn on the camp bed, which wasn't a bad thing. Lying beside anyone but Niall would've just felt wrong, especially while he was in the room.

But with a pang to his stomach, Zayn realized that Niall didn't have such qualms. 

Zayn heaved his case onto the rickety camp bed and then sat down on the opposite end, hoping it wouldn't collapse under his weight. Liam looked at him from the other side of the room, offering an apologetic smile.   
"Does anybody want food?" Liam asked, reverting back to his natural mother hen characteristics. "I saw a pizza shop down the road, I could run there and get something."   
"I think I'd like to just go to bed." Niall said shortly, sitting up from the bed and reaching for his pajamas. "Besides, the pizza from there's shit."   
They decided that they were all too tired for dinner, and then settled down for the night. The bathroom was small, so they had to take turns, rotating in and out of there. Eventually, Zayn got too impatient, because despite the palpable tension in the room, these guys were still his best friends. They'd all seen him in various states of undress, and he wouldn't be going totally starkers or anything. So Zayn stood up, tugging his shirt over his head and then tugging his jeans down. Walking in his boxers to his suitcase, he rifled through it for his pajama top. 

"Look at Adonis, deigning to walk amongst us lowly mortals." Louis teased, a hint of his usual humor popping up in his voice. He mimed bowing down to Zayn, lowering his head piously. "We're not worthy!"   
"Shut up." Zayn said good-naturedly. "I'll get an enormous head, hanging around with you lot."   
"But seriously Zayn, you're the reason global warming exists. I'm gonna offer you up to science-"   
"My turn for the toilet, I think." Niall said, his voice shrill as he cut Louis off. He jumped off the bed and bolted past them, pausing at Zayn. Glancing at the top in his hand, he cleared his throat.   
"You'll get cold with that off." he said, his voice tense. "It's chilly here, with the sea nearby, and everything."   
And then Niall stalked away again, leaving Zayn staring after him. He compliantly tugged the shirt over his head, even though he wasn't cold at all, and then clambered into bed, tugging the duvet up over his body. Eventually, the entire room wound down, Niall returning from the toilet silently. He crawled into bed beside Harry, and switched off his bedside light. The room was then bathed in darkness, and soon became filled with gentle snores and slow breathing, twisting sheets and the occasional sleep talk from Harry. But it took Zayn hours to fall asleep, because he was wondering how, in a room with four other people, he managed to feel totally alone. 

 

Zayn was drowning. 

Arms flailing, legs thrashing, lungs burning _drowning_. His head breached the surface of the water and he gasped for air, but then a wave came up at the last moment, hitting him in the face. Zayn choked out a mouthful of saltwater and then went down again, panic making his pulse nearly triple in speed. He could feel exhaustion deadening his limbs, turning them to lead. Zayn knew he wouldn't last long like this. 

Zayn could barely see through the murky water, stinging his eyes out of his skull. He scissored his legs together, trying to propel himself upward, forward, anywhere but staying sedentary. Feeling the loss of oxygen ring in his head, he uselessly opened his mouth, gulping back more water. He felt it trickle down into his lungs, stealing whatever strength he’d once had. Zayn stopped moving his arms, knowing there was no point. He kept treading with his legs though, as a last ditch effort to keep himself up. Tipping his head back, he looked at water’s surface, seeing the sunlight cut through it. Above the haze, Zayn could see the blue sky. He loved the colour blue. He really really did. Zayn was happy it was the last colour he’d ever see. 

Zayn shut his eyes and prepared himself to sink to the ocean’s depths when he was shaken awake.

“Zayn! Wake up!” somebody said, putting their hands on Zayn’s shoulders and giving him a shake. Zayn’s eyes flew open and he sat straight up, nearly colliding with his savior. Chest heaving with panic, he gulped back air, pressing a hand to his rapid heart. He was covered in sweat, his body all tangled up in the blankets. He shuddered, covering his face with his hands as the nightmare gradually left him. A gentle hand was on his back, massaging his tense shoulders, and with a slight jolt, Zayn recognized it as Niall’s. 

Raising his head, Zayn met Niall’s eyes, his blue gaze filled with worry. His hair was all rumpled from sleep, one of his cheeks red from being pressed against a pillow. His pajamas were blue pinstripes, the buttons mismatched at the collar.   
“Bad dream?” Niall asked softly, his voice little more than a whisper. Zayn nodded, feeling himself blush as he realized that Niall undoubtedly heard him thrashing around on his bed.   
“Wanna talk about it?” Niall then said, his hand pausing at Zayn’s neck and playing with the sweat-soaked hair at his nape.   
“Water.” Zayn said croakily, with a vague hand motion. “Drowning.”  
Niall kept his hand at Zayn’s neck, giving it a comforting squeeze. Zayn leant into the gentle touch, shutting his eyes as calm washed over him. Niall grazed his thumb over Zayn’s pulse, probably checking that it was slowing. Which, whenever Niall was in close proximity, it generally didn’t.   
“Sorry for waking you up.” Zayn mumbled, not meeting Niall’s eyes. He was still embarrassed, because what nineteen year old has to be comforted after having a nightmare? He felt like a proper idiot. “You should go back to bed, get a good night’s sleep, we’re gonna be busy tomorrow.”   
“You didn’t wake me up, I couldn’t sleep anyway.” Niall said, seeming lax to leave and go back to his own bed. He glanced over at where Harry was bundled up under the duvet, his chest slowly rising with every breath. The only visible part of him was his hair, those messy curls springing up everywhere. “Harry talks in his sleep, so that’s keeping me up. Besides, I’m miffed at him anyway.”   
“Why?” Zayn asked curiously, but Niall didn’t respond. He glanced down at the camp bed Zayn was on, looking unsure. Pursuing his lips, he tilted his head to the side, surveying Zayn.   
“Can I sleep here?” he asked at last, sounding rushed, like he doubted Zayn would say yes.   
“Uh- yeah, yeah, sure.” Zayn said, starting to climb out of the bed. “We’ll trade places, yeah? I’m normally a heavy sleeper, so I’ll sleep beside Harry-”  
“No!” Niall said vehemently, like that was the absolute last thing he wanted. “No, I mean, sleep with you.”  
Zayn choked, not expecting that phrase, and Niall nearly turned fuschia, that’s how hard he blushed. He shut his eyes, shaking his head.   
“I meant, sleep here, with you. Beside you.”

Which might be easier said than done. This camp bed barely fit Zayn as it was, and with two people on it, it might go tipping over. But Zayn figured that a few moments of lying with Niall might be worth it, even if they were deposited on the floor right after. So he nodded, sitting up on the bed and wriggling over to the side. Niall gingerly eased himself down beside him, curling up in a ball as Zayn tucked the duvet over them both. They didn’t end up on the floor, but there wasn’t enough space for them both to be comfortable, every slight motion making their elbows or knees collide. There was no way they’d get any sleep like this. 

So Zayn put an arm around Niall’s waist, tugging him up so he was basically laying on his own body. Niall jolted at the movement, but then relaxed, tucking his head on Zayn’s neck. He was lying on his stomach, his chin hooked over Zayn’s shoulder so he could look at him. Their legs were entwined, Niall’s cold feet pressed against Zayn’s and making him shiver.   
“This is better.” he whispered with a small smile, and Zayn nodded, putting a hand on Niall’s back.   
“Better than me sleeping with Harry, yeah?” Zayn said, teasing him a bit, and Niall nodded firmly, fighting another blush.   
“So much better.” he breathed, casting another look at Harry;s sleeping body across the room.   
“Why’re you miffed at him?” Zayn asked, genuinely wanting to know. “It’s been a rough day on the guy, but what’d he do?”  
“It’s stupid.” Niall said dismissively with a shake of his head. “Really, it wasn’t worth getting upset about.”  
“C’mon Niall, tell me.” he said cajolingly, keeping his voice hushed as to not wake the others up. “I won’t think it’s dumb or whatever, I promise.”  
Niall sighed, bowing his head back into Zayn’s chest. His arms tightened around the older boy, like he was trying to keep himself anchored. Zayn held his breath as he waited, knowing Niall would tell him, but just didn’t want to look at him while he did.   
“He was flirting with you.” Niall mumbled into the cotton of Zayn’s tank top, and okay, what?   
“What?” Zayn said in confusion. “No, he wasn’t. When?”  
“While we waited for the taxi. With the camera.”   
Zayn chuckled in surprise, and Niall scowled, a hint of hurt in his eyes. He glared over at Harry again, and really, it was amazing he hadn’t woken up yet, from all the bad vibes Niall was sending his way.   
“Niall.” he said affectionately, pushing his boyfriend’s messy hair out of his eyes. ‘Harry wasn’t flirting with me. I swear, he wasn’t.”  
“He was!” Niall said insistently, eyes widening. “With the whole _you could model_ line: did he take that directly from a Sparks novel? Fuck’s sake, you told him to take a picture of something he thought was beautiful, and he barely even paused before he snapped your photo!”   
“Ni, I was just trying to cheer him up, he probably vomited up his soul today-”  
“I’m not mad at you.” Niall said hurriedly. “You were just being a good friend, while he definitely wasn’t, at least not to me. Harry _knows_ how I feel about you, he’s listened to every single one of my soppy speeches about you-”  
“Soppy speeches?” Zayn said with interest, raising his eyebrows. “What might they be?”  
“Never you mind.” Niall replied with a huff. “The fact remains that he was hitting on you, and you’re my boyfriend, and that’s not okay. I know he's heartbroken and he wants Louis back, but that doesn't mean he can use you to fix his heart! And Louis is another kettle of fish entirely. Calling you Adonis, what the fuck was _that_?"   
"You know how Louis is, he was just trying to be funny-"   
"Well, maybe, but he still took notice of how hot you are and incorporated it into his humor. They've both been excessively complimentary to you today, and I don't know if they're either geninuely attracted to you, or if they're just using you to hurt each other, and I also don't know which possibility hurts me more. I'm just praying that both of them aren't genuinely attracted to you, because then-" 

Niall's whispered tirade ended as his voice faltered. He pressed his lips together tightly and bowed his head back into the curve of Zayn's neck. He was trembling, his hands on Zayn's chest unable to stop shaking. Zayn lifted his own head up, trying to study him.   
"Then what, Niall?" Zayn asked, the words whispered into his blonde hair. Niall pulled his head back and looked at Zayn, his face somber. His eyes briefly flicked to Zayn's mouth and then back to his whole face again, the blue of them morose.   
"Then I don't really stand a chance." he said simply, his voice wavering slightly.   
"Niall-" Zayn started to say, holding onto Niall's hips tighter. He had to stop this before it went any further, because none of it was true anyway. He wouldn't be leaving Niall for Louis or Harry for more than a few reasons, but here were just a couple:  
1\. He wasn't and had never been attracted to either of them.   
2\. They happened to be madly in love with each other.   
3\. They weren't Niall Horan. 

"Let me get this out." Niall said in a rush, looking at Zayn with some panic. "I need to get this said. Look at the situation analytically. Louis or Harry would both be highly desirable. They're attractive, intelligent, and affectionate. They both make you laugh so much. They can get drunk with you without panicking that the car will crash, even though they refuse to get a driver's license. They can enter tight spaces without feeling that the world is coming down on top of them. They can tell you how they feel, because they're emotionally stable-"   
"Okay," Zayn said, feeling like he simply had to cut in at this point. "I wouldn't call either Harry or Louis emotionally stable. Particularly not Louis. That's why they're in the mess that they're in."   
"Fine." Niall acknowledged with a nod of his head. "But you can't deny that he's way more emotionally stable than I am.   
"I wouldn't go that far." Zayn whispered, trying to assuage Niall comparing himself to Louis. They were vastly different: they were two entirely different people! Louis had qualities that Niall didn't and vice versa. Niall had to understand, had to know that those qualities of his were just as amazing as Louis'. If not more. 

Zayn had just opened his mouth to speak again when Niall beat him to it.   
"Louis has never self-harmed." Niall said bluntly, looking at Zayn directly. He looked firm, but his eyes betrayed his true fear. They were wide with terror, looking bottomless. Like Zayn could dive right into them and sink forever. "Or at least, as far as I know, he hasn't. So I'd say that's a good indicator of my instability, given today." 

Zayn swallowed harshly, feeling his throat go dry. He looked back at Niall, knowing that his boyfriend's terror was etched across his own face. Niall brought it up. They were having this conversation right now. They were talking about his self-harm right now. Zayn felt panic swirl up in his stomach and he fought to quell it. If he freaked out, then Niall definitely would, and then where would any of them be? Niall was watching him, studying his reaction to what he'd just said. One of his hands come up to press it's fingertips against Zayn's lips, feeling them shake. Zayn shut his eyes at the touch, wanting it desperately but also wishing it'd stop. He didn't know what option would give him relief. 

"Did I hurt you earlier?" Zayn asked at last, his voice cracking. "Niall, please tell me if I did, so I can make sure it'll never happen again. I'm not going to pry, I'm never going to ask if you have to haven't..."   
"Cut." Niall finished for him, his voice impossibly gentle. Zayn gave a quick nod, the word feeling like a punch to the stomach. He couldn't breathe, because that word was stealing all his air. _Cut cut cut_ his brain chanted, mocking him uselessly. He felt a few tears slip down his cheeks, and he didn't bother to hide them. There'd been too much hidden between them already. 

Suddenly, Niall's gentle hands were on his cheeks, tenderly wiping away his tears. He ran a hand through Zayn's hair and crooned under his breath, clearly trying to calm him. Zayn gasped quietly, pressing a fist to his mouth. He nodded once, now leaning into Niall's touch. For once, his skin was warm.   
"Yeah, yeah." he said breathlessly, uselessly. "I won't ask, because that's your business. It's personal to you, and if that's what you- you need to do to get through life, I won't get you to try and stop or anything. God knows I have my vices. But I just- I just need to know if I'm hurting you, at all, in any way. I mean- when we're together, like we were on the bunk today. We can have like a code word or something, so I can back off, and I won't ask any questions, and I won't judge you." 

Zayn could feel the hysteria rising up in his chest. It threatened to drown him, just like his dream had. He shuddered, trying to regain control of himself. But it was no use, because he might've hurt Niall. And if that was true, he didn't know what he'd do with himself. Zayn never thought his hands could bring his boyfriend pain, but in this cruel trick of Fate, maybe they had.

Niall noticed his agitation, and bless him, he didn't comment on it. Instead he sat up on Zayn's waist, wriggling his way forward. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against Zayn's, taking up all the space so that he was the only thing Zayn could see. Grabbing Zayn's hands, he squeezed them both tightly, and then brought them down to his legs. He unflinchingly pressed Zayn's plams against his thighs, looking at him with a calm gaze. Zayn stared at him, gulping in fear. Was this hurting, and Niall just wasn't letting it show?   
"I've been clean since September 13th." Niall whispered. "Nearly six months to the day, actually. And I know that in the grand scheme of life, six months isn't that long. But it's still six months that I haven't hurt myself, and I let myself feel proud of that. Sure, I've had bad days. There's been days when I've locked myself in the toilet and just sat there, gripping a razor for hours. But I can honestly tell you that every single scar you saw was half a year old, and they're just going to keep getting older." 

With those words, Zayn broke. He shoved his face into Niall's thin chest and wept silently. And for once, for what felt like the first time in weeks, Zayn was crying from relief. Not sadness, not pain, but unadulterated relief. Because Niall was clean. He hadn't felt that pain in six months. As selfish as the thought was, Zayn now knew that Niall had never self harmed while he'd known him. Zayn now knew that Niall had never self harmed _because_ of him. He'd never accidentally hurt Niall by desperately clinging to him in a kiss, and Zayn prayed that he never would. 

Niall just held Zayn as he slowly quieted down, hiccuping into the crook of Niall's neck. He wiped at Zayn's swollen eyes as he smiled down at him tenderly. The darkness of the room cast shadows along Niall's cheeks, highlighting his angular cheekbones. In a daze, Zayn realized that Niall's face was filling out as he matured, his features rounding and developing more fully. And with the realization, Zayn felt sad in a way that he couldn't quite explain.   
"Today, I pulled away because it's a reflex for me by now. I've gotten so used to hiding this part of me from people, and momentarily, I forgot that you knew. But I promise, you didn't hurt me. You never have." Niall breathed, and Zayn gave a watery smile, fighting more tears. Niall intertwined their legs together tighter, trying to get as close to Zayn as possible. He rested his head on Zayn's chest again, and they'd gone silent for a few moments, when a pressing question occurred to Zayn. 

"September 13th is your birthday." he whispered, his tired eyes cracking open.   
"Indeed it is." Niall replied, tilting his head up again and looking at Zayn. "And you're wondering why that particular day kickstarted my recovery?"   
"Well, yes." Zayn admitted. "But you don't have to tell me, obviously. All of this is highly personal to you -"   
"No, I want you to know." Niall interrupted, gently putting a hand to Zayn's mouth. "You deserve to know. You deserve to know everything." 

Niall paused, looking up at the ceiling like he was trying to collect his thoughts. Absentmindedly, one of his hands fiddled with the crooked buttons of his pajama collar, still not managing to fix them. He sighed, a distant look in his eyes. In that moment, Niall was far away, wrapped up in his memories. All Zayn wanted was for them to be happy.   
"It was my seventeenth birthday." Niall began, his voice soft. "All my family was around, as always, flocking into Mullingar with presents and too many cakes and high spirits. But clearly, this year my entire family was miserable, because this was my first- my first birthday without my mother. And I was the most miserable of all, because all I could think was that this was just one of many birthdays without her."

"You see, my mum loved birthdays, almost as much as she loved Christmas. She always made me feel like the most special kid alive. It was one day of the year that I got spoiled absolutely rotten.We had a lot of birthday traditions, just silly little things. For example, my parents always woke me up at 5:00 AM, because I was born at that time. And I always got to eat a piece of birthday cake first thing in the morning, even though it gave me a stomachache every year. But- my favourite tradition was opening my presents, because- because I opened my mum and dad's last." 

Niall swallowed deeply, the sound loud in the silent room. He fiddled with the frayed duvet covering both their bodies, not looking at Zayn. He could feel Niall's heartbeat pressed against his own chest: it was racing, betraying the calm exterior he exuded. He gulped again, and then opened his mouth to speak.   
"So, there I was, just turned seventeen. All my gifts from my extended family were opened, the wrapping paper strewn all around me. Everybody had assumed I'd opened Dad's gift before they arrived, and then drifted off through the rest of the house. It was just me, in the sitting room, trying to find happiness in a day that also belongs to a mother. And then- my dad walks in, and you can totally tell he's been crying. He just saunters over, and hands me a unopened letter. And as you can guess, it wasn't from him."   
"Your mum?" Zayn whispered, his voice cracking as Niall hurriedly nodded.   
"Yeah, it was from her. While she was pregnant with me, she wrote one for basically every year of my life, to be opened only on my birthday, and they always came attached with her present. In my sadness, I'd totally forgotten about them. So, you can probably guess how I reacted. I grabbed it from my dad's hands and sprinted to my room and nearly ripped the letter while trying to get it open. I was so desperate, because- because reading her words would be the closest thing to hearing her voice one last time." 

Niall choked, his eyes welling up with tears. He pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes, trying to hold them in. Sniffing deeply, he looked at Zayn. He was so happy and so sad at the same time: it was the truest form of contrast Zayn'd ever seen.   
"It was just what I needed, Zayn. It wasn't long, because she wouldn't know exactly what my life would be like every year. But despite that, it wasn't generic. I think- I think my mum somehow knew what I'd be like, and what I'd need to hear, at every stage of my life. And there's this one part, that was just so accurate at the time...you'd really think she'd written it the night before my birthday. I've memorized it actually, if you'd like to hear."   
"Only if you're willing to share it, Ni." Zayn breathed and Niall nodded, looking determined. He wiped his eyes one more time, his brow furrowed in concentration as he waited for the words to come back to him.

" _Dearest Niall_." he started, his voice wavering with emotion. " _I know sometimes you feel hopeless. If you're anything like myself as a seventeen year old, then you most likely always feel hopeless. Life is hard, and it's around your age now that people start to realize that. You have the stress of academics, extracurricular activities, and a social life. There might be a science project that's keeping you up all night, or a special someone that sets your heart hammering. Or it could even be something worse. But darling, if it is worse than that, if something-or someone- is hurting you, please tell someone you love. Tell me. Tell your father. Tell anyone that can help you, even if it isn't either of us. We love you so much, Niall. You gave your first kick as I began this letter, and I couldn't believe the love I felt in that moment. It was so strong, it took my breath away. I don't think you really understand love until you have a child, because I knew then that I'd do anything to protect you. But Niall, now I'm asking you to protect yourself as well. You're my boy. My wonderful, shining boy. Never lose your shine_." 

Niall's voice died, and he hurriedly wiped at his wet eyes. Heaving out a sigh, he dropped his full weight back on Zayn's chest, seeming exhausted from what he'd said. Zayn put a hand on his back, under his shirt, and just held him closer. Pressing their bodies together, he nosed his face into Niall's hair, breathing in deeply.   
"After reading that, I realized something." Niall began again, his lips pressed right against Zayn's ear. These words were only for him. "I had to protect myself, from myself. I was putting myself in danger, I was in nearly constant pain from my own actions. I knew it would break my mother's heart, and it was- it was disrespectful to her memory to be damaging someone she loved so much." 

"So, that day, I ran up to my room and threw out anything sharp, so I wouldn't be tempted anymore. A couple days later, I told my dad that I wanted to start seeing a therapist, but I had only gone twice before the opportunity for us to move came up, in the beginning of October. We rented out our house, managed to buy a new house without even touring it first, and then two weeks later, I was an Irish guy playing football in a British park, trying to make friends and start over."   
"And you did." Zayn breathed against Niall's cheek. His hands were shaking on Niall's waist, and he wasn't entirely sure why.   
"I did." Niall replied tiredly, his eyes sliding closed. "I'm never going to let myself get that bad again."   
Niall moved his head so he was looking directly down at Zayn, a soft smile on his lips. Zayn couldn't breathe, because he looked so beautiful in the moonlight. His hair was almost pure silver, and his eyes glimmered, combating the inky dusk. Niall leaned up on one elbow and put a hand on Zayn's cheek, grazing his thumb over the stubble and catching it on his bottom lip. And Zayn couldn't just stand it anymore.   
"Can I kiss you?" Zayn whispered, feeling need deep in his stomach. It wasn't desire, or even lust, but need. He needed Niall, with every fibre in his being. "I'm not trying to make this go anywhere, but I just- it's been ages, and I need- I need-"   
"Me." Niall finished for him, and Zayn nodded, for once not hiding his face in Niall's chest. He just looked up at him, his diaphragm rising with rattily inhale. Niall pushed Zayn's fringe back from his forehead, letting the silky strands glide through his fingers.   
"I have a better idea." Niall said, pausing with his mouth right over Zayn's. "Let me kiss you. Let me take care of you." 

And somehow, Zayn found himself nodding. 

Niall wormed his way closer to Zayn, until there wasn't a centimeter of space between their bodies. He smiled at him, his eyes crinkling at the sides, and Zayn sighed, feeling the residual stress from their entire conversation leave his body. Niall rested both his hands on Zayn's chest, over his heart.   
"Calm down, petal." he murmured lowly. "Your heart's racin'."   
Zayn didn't respond, because he seemed to have lost all vocal function. Slowly, Niall's hands traveled upward, loosely cupping Zayn's neck. He leaned in, bumping his nose against Zayn's, and even gave him an Eskimo kiss. Their warm breath mingled together, making electricity shoot down Zayn's spine. And finally, Niall closed the distance between them, sighing into Zayn's mouth. 

To say it was the best kiss of Zayn's life would've been an understatement. There was no heat behind it, not passion or hints of things to come. The only word Zayn could think to describe it was gentle: just a soft, gentle pressure, like he wasn't going to push Zayn too hard. Niall tasted primarily like Spearmint toothpaste, but just past that, there was the sea. A mere trace of salt and sand and peril. And Zayn didn't mind it. As they kissed, Niall's hands caressed Zayn's body, seeming to be everywhere at once. He massaged his fingertips against Zayn's temples, he located the tense kinks in his shoulders and worked them out: Niall was taking care of him. 

Slowly, they broke apart, Zayn already feeling the loss. But two seconds hadn't passed before Niall's lips were on him again, at his neck this time. They flitted all around the sensitive skin, making Zayn squirm from how light the feeling was. Niall noticed his distress and kissed him more firmly, grazing his teeth across his pulse. Zayn gasped out loud, and struggled to stifle it, looking around to make sure no one had woken up. Niall chuckled against his neck, biting down harder and making Zayn groan.  
"Do you mind if I leave a bruise?" Niall whispered, his breath cool against the wet skin of Zayn's neck. "I know they can be embarrassing, but- I want to put one where everyone will see it."   
"Why?" Zayn asked, already knowing the answer, but wanted to hear him say it. He had no problem with lovebites: he actually kinda really liked them. Zayn liked having visible signs to mean something, it's probably why he couldn't stop getting tattoos.   
"Because you're mine, Zayn Malik." Niall said, some of his earlier jealously reappearing in his voice. "Not Harry's, not Louis', not anybody else's, but mine. And I want everyone to know that. Tomorrow, I want everyone to know that I slept here, that I gave you a rather spectacular lovebite, and that I made you look as beautiful as you do right now."

Zayn nodded breathlessly, knowing Niall could've proposed a trip to the inside of an active volcano in that moment and he probably would've agreed, hands down. Niall set to work, biting and sucking and then soothing with his tongue, so it never became too much. So that it never truly hurt. He actually gave Zayn more than one mark: Zayn now had a bruise on his collarbone, on the side of his neck, and also right on his jawline. Niall sat up, taking a look at his handiwork, and Zayn blushed under his scrutiny. Giving a satisfied nod, Niall settled back down to lie ontop of Zayn, smiling at him adoringly. Their breathing soon synched up, and Zayn felt sleep begin to make his limbs heavy. He was warm, tangled up with his boy, and he knew that no nightmares would plague him now. 

"I'm happy you slept here." Zayn whispered as he felt oblivion pull him under.   
"I sleep better in your arms than in any bed." Niall breathed back, and Zayn didn't know when Niall fell asleep, but he liked to think that they drifted off together. Because then, they weren't alone.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so...remember the thing that happened last chapter? How too much was in it and I couldn't post it as one?
> 
> That happened again XD 
> 
> Day Three of their trip will be chapter twenty I suppose :D
> 
> ALSO, my depiction of Mullingar isn't accurate: I've never been there. However, my mother is Irish, and she is from the Strandhill place mentioned. I have bee there as my loving description of it probably indicate XD 
> 
> It's basically my favorite place ever and look up pictures because it's beautifully real XD 
> 
> Don't hate me

Zayn woke up with Niall sitting cross-legged on the camp bed, resting his chin on his hand as he looked down at him. Zayn rubbed at his sleepy eyes blearily, trying to come to reality a bit. He turned on his side, pulling the blanket up over his body and giving Niall a tired, but happy, smile. Seeing Niall this early in the morning was something he could get used to. His blonde hair was a mess, his eyes were low with sleep, and his cheek was red from being pressed against Zayn's chest all night. The weak light from the sun, streaming through the window, turned his skin almost translucent.  
"Good morning." Zayn whispered, his voice groggy from sleep. "How'd you sleep?"  
"If I had any artistic talent at all," Niall responded, clearly not answering Zayn's question. "I would only ever draw you, just like this." 

Well, that wasn't the response Zayn expected, but he'll definitely take it. Fighting a goofy grin (probably the Niall Smile, _dammit_ ), Zayn blushed, shoving his face into the pillow to hide it. Then, Niall's gentle hands were on his hips, coaxing him to turn around. Zayn raised his head hesitantly, feeling himself redden more as Niall looked at him, his gaze merry. Niall reached forward and toyed with Zayn's fringe, wrapping a lock of his hair around his index finger and springing it back into a curl.  
"I would kiss you good morning," Niall murmured breathlessly, leaning his head closer and bumping his nose against Zayn's. "But I've probably got morning breath, so let me brush my teeth first."  
"I don't really give a shit, to be quite honest with you." Zayn mumbled back and Niall giggled, pressing his lips to Zayn's shortly before slipping off the bed and scurrying to the toilet. Zayn watched him go, turning on his side and leaning up on his elbow to get a better view. He felt his heart flutter in his chest, listening to Niall hum under his breath as he turned the faucets on and off, because what exactly was happening right now? And why wasn't he scared by it?

This felt crazily domestic, doing all of this with Niall. They'd fallen asleep together, with zero intimacy prior to it. Zayn had just kissed somebody without worrying what the fuck his breath smelled like. Niall had been watching him sleep and waxing poetic about art, for God's sake! In the past, anything like this would've made Zayn run. If the people he hooked up with showed any remaining affection or desire for something _more_ than meaningless sex, then Zayn usually kissed their cheek while they were half asleep, mumbled a goodbye/thanks/excuse/whatever, and slipped out of bed without waking them up properly. He never hung around for the morning after, didn't want sleepy cuddles or quiet whispers, didn't need them either. 

And really, Zayn knew the true reason he always left first. It was so he wouldn't ever wake up alone. But this morning, he wasn't afraid of lying in a bed by himself, because he knew Niall was coming right back. So Zayn settled back onto the bed, hauling the duvet further up his body. He went in and out of consciousness, waiting for the warm weight of Niall to join him again as he dozed. He felt his lips curve into a smile at the thought. And right then, a weight did join him. But it wasn't his boyfriend. 

It was his best friend, though. 

Louis had thrown himself into a flying leap, landing directly ontop of Zayn and shaking him awake. Zayn jolted back out of his sleep, nearly slamming his skull into Louis' as he gasped. His heart nearly stopped at the shock, the urge to push Louis onto the floor growing with every second.  
"Mornin' Z!!!" Louis half screeched into Zayn's ear, his eyes manically bright as they looked down at the other boy. "Ready to get up and galvanize this lovely town of Mullingar?"  
"Get the fuck off me." Zayn groaned, clapping a hand to his forehead as a headache started to pound behind his eyes. "What did I do to deserve such a lovely wake up call?"  
"You looked the comfiest." Louis quipped as he slid off Zayn's body, slinging an arm around Zayn's shoulders and hauling him into the sitting position. "Thought I don't fucking know how, that bed is hard as shit."  
"Well, thanks." Zayn mumbled as he shoved the blanket off his legs and stood up, the cold floorboards chilling his bare feet. Cracking an eye open, he looked at Louis, taking in how jittery he seemed. He was radiating with hyperactive energy, his smile too big and his eyes too shiny. This was what Louis always did: this was his classic way of coping with things. He just goes and goes and goes, his constant energy seeming limitless. He runs around in circles, going nearly blue in the face trying to make people laugh, all to forget his own sadness. And eventually, as everything does, he drops. 

Zayn wondered when he'd drop this time. And how they'd all catch him when he inevitably did. Because behind the facade, Zayn could see Louis wavering. His eyes had huge bags beneath them, his face was drawn and exhausted, and tight worry lines that'd never been here before stretched across his forehead. And Zayn figured they were caused by two people: Harry and Louis' father.

"Good morning, Lou!" Niall said through a mouthful of toothpaste, popping his head out from the toliet door. "Sleep well, yeah?"  
"Oh you know me, Nialler." Louis said nonchalantly. "My brain's too bloody full to switch off sometimes. But I'll be good! Just pour some black coffee down my throat and I'll go all day."  
"I'm sure." Niall said with a laugh, going back into the bathroom and rinsing his mouth out. "Can you guys wake Liam and Harry up? I've got quite the day planned." 

Louis looked at Zayn with blatant panic in his eyes, glancing quickly at Harry's sleeping form. Zayn didn't even need to ask, because he knew that in his current state, Louis couldn't be anywhere near Harry: he just nodded and stepped past Louis, heading over to the curly haired boy. Louis then went over to Liam, hopefully waking him up more nicely than he did Zayn. Zayn smiled fondly down at Harry sleeping. The only visible parts of him were his curls and his feet, where the duvet was too short to cover his entire body. Zayn pulled the duvet back and put a hand on Harry's shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.  
"Time to get up, H." he said as Harry's eyes blinked open, a sudden flash of jade green appearing.  
Harry gave Zayn a tiny smile as he burrowed further into the blankets, looking genuinely happy to be woken up. (He'd always been an early riser.) Liam, on the other hand, sounded less than happy to be conscious. In his bed off to Zayn's right, he gave a low groan, mumbling a few half-hearted curses as he showed his head under his pillow.  
"C'mon Payno!" Louis said encouragingly. "The beauty of Ireland is waiting!"  
"The beauty of my bed is waiting too."  
"Okay," Louis replied, his voice now full of mischief. He surreptitiously unplugged Liam's phone from its charger, picking it up from where it rested on the night stand. "I'll just send Sophia a naughty text then. I'm sure she'd appreciate it, she must be missing you-" 

Zayn doesn't think he's ever seen Liam Payne move faster. He vaulted out of bed and had the mobile out of Louis' hand in two seconds flat. And as the four of them all looked at each other and laughed, Zayn knew it would be a good day. 

 

After a traditional Irish breakfast that was fucking amazing but also probably caused Zayn to gain at least ten pounds, the boys left the bed and breakfast in a rambunctious huddle, all of them getting excited to see Niall's hometown. Niall had decided that today was just showing them all his favourite places of Mullingar: where he went to school, a bakery he loved, that kind of thing. He hadn't mentioned his mother's grave yet, and nobody else brought it up, knowing that Niall had to suggest it himself. That was the only way they'd know if he was truly ready or not. Everything on this trip had to be to Niall's pace, and Zayn was paying him close attention, looking for signs that everything was becoming too much. 

For right now, his boyfriend seemed fine. Niall was walking slightly ahead of their group, guiding them through the twisting streets of Mullingar. His gray hood was pulled up over his head to protect himself from the light rain drizzling on top of them, and every so often, he turned back and spoke to the other four boys, mentioning a tidbit about a street they were on or a memory he had of a certain place. He was quieter than normal though, lost in his own thoughts. Everything in Zayn wanted to catch up to him, to grab his hand and walk alongside him, trying to give Niall some of his own strength. To just let him know that Zayn was there, and he wasn't going anywhere. 

But he couldn't, because Niall deserved some space. This entire trip was basically just for him, to help him come to terms with everything. Louis, Liam, Harry, and Zayn were kinda just tag-alongs, an excuse to get Niall to go home. These streets were the last place Niall had seen his mother alive, and he deserved to process that alone. And also, the last time Niall had been here, he was totally unsure of his sexuality. Everybody in Mullingar probably thought Niall was as straight as they come: Zayn had convinced himself of it, before they were dating. So, he couldn't really walk up and down town holding a boy's hand without raising some eyebrows. So Zayn kept his distance, knowing he had to act like just another one of Niall's friends, as much as he didn't want to. He was so much more, Zayn knew that, but not getting to show it left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

"This was my secondary school." Niall called back, pausing at a black iron gate on a street corner. The boys huddled together under the overhang, trying to escape the rain. Zayn shivered as a raindrop trailed down his neck and along his back. He hadn't believed that any country could be rainier than England, but he was proven wrong. They peered through the bars of the gate, looking at the red brick building on the top of the hill. The grass of the lawns was beautifully green, a deep luscious color, and okay, maybe all this rain was good for something.  
"It's called Saint. Andrew's, and it's all-boys. There's a sister school down the street, called Saint. Bernadette's." Niall explained as they looked, his voice full of mirth. "We're known as 'Randy Andy's' to every other school around here, but it's just because we beat them all at football every year. I went to every game last season with my face painted bright green, and my friend Cormac was team captain-"

Here, Niall's face fell and he went silent, looking at his feet and shuffling them back and forth. He shoved his hands deep into his hoodie pockets, a shadow of pain passing over his face. And that's when it clicked for Zayn. He'd mentioned a friend. Possibly his best friend. A friend who'd abandoned him. Zayn felt a fresh flood of rage surge through him, because how anybody could ever abandon Niall, he just didn't know. It wouldn't be physically possible for Zayn. 

Niall bit his lip, looking through the bars of the gate with big eyes. How many fun times did he once have here? How many happy memories now ached because of the cruel sting of loss? Niall reached over and fiddled with the padlock that kept the gate shut, as if he was considering going in. But then his hand fell back down to his side limply, because obviously, he couldn't open it from the outside. Zayn couldn't bear Niall having to face another kind of rejection from this place. 

And that's how Zayn found himself climbing the iron bars of the gate. Because Niall was going to make a new happy memory here if it killed him. 

Without thinking about the consequences (breaking and entering charges, possibly vandalism, injury, maybe death) Zayn put his foot on the lowest slat of the bar, grabbing the top of the gate. He felt everybody's eyes on him as he moved, Niall's gaze being the strongest of all. He looked down from his raised position and made eye contact with his boyfriend. Niall's face looked shocked and confused, his eyes wide. He looked scared too, probably worried that Zayn would fall and crack open his skull.  
"What're you playing at?" Niall said with a nervous laugh, putting a hand on the back of Zayn's knee and gripping it like a vice.  
"I'm climbing over and opening it, so we can get in." Zayn responded simply, going even higher.  
"C'mon Zayn, get down." Liam said sensibly, offering Zayn his hand so he could brace himself to jump off. "This is dangerous, let's go do something else, Niall has so much more to show us-"  
"Yeah, but he wants to go in here." Louis cut in, and Zayn fought a grin. Atta boy, Tommo. Always on Zayn's side. Good trait for a best friend to have. "Zayn's a big boy, he can climb over a fence, right? Let him try at least." 

Reluctantly, Liam stepped back, and Niall's hand slipped away from the back of Zayn's leg. Zayn went up another level on the gate, and then other, feeling slightly dizzy from the height. He reached the top and then raised one leg over the highest point, resting it on the other side of the gate. Gripping the metal tightly so he didn't fall, Zayn then brought his other leg over to meet the other. Scaling down the gate, he jumped the last few feet, landing on his feet with a jolt. He heard everyone on the other side give an audible sigh of relief, and then Liam’s deep voice say,  
"Well, thank God that's over. I didn't even bring my first aid kit with me."  
"Thanks for the thought, Payno." Zayn said with a wry grin, because anybody else would've meant that statement ironically, but not Liam. He actually brought a fully equipped first aid kit with him to Ireland. Zayn unlatched the padlock and left it hanging unlocked on the bar, pulling the door back and letting everyone else walk into the grounds of the school. Louis grinned at him as he passed, looking jubilant. Beside him, Liam shook his head disbelievingly, looking slightly disappointed but impressed. Harry just seemed glad Zayn was back on solid ground. But Niall?

Niall didn't look at him. 

 

"Oh, this is _ace_." Louis crowed, kneeling down into a bush and pulling out a mud-spattered football. "Somebody's left their ball here! Let's have a pass."  
They'd been walking through the lawns of Saint. Andrews for ten minutes, just enjoying the day. The rain lightened up slightly, weak sunlight trying to get past the clouds. The air smelled fresh and green, bursting with life. Through the trees, Zayn had seen squirrels and chipmunks scurrying around, chattering noisily at one another. And despite the palpable tension he felt between himself and his boyfriend, Zayn couldn't help but feel sorta relaxed. 

Louis tossed the football to the ground, nudging it up with his toe and volleying it off both his knees. He then bounced it off his head, his fringe falling in front of his eyes. He was a natural footballer, always had been, and Zayn loved getting to see him show off his skills, because he rarely did. Louis caught the ball in mid air, holding it to his chest and looking at them hopefully, blue eyes beseeching.  
"Please guys, I haven't played footie in ages." he wheedled. "I doubt I can count Zayn or Harry in, but Liam, you're up for it, aren't ya? Ni?"  
As Louis addressed him, Niall's head snapped up from where he was staring at his feet, watching them steadily trudge forward as they walked. He looked at Louis, glancing at the ball, and then shook his head dismissively.  
"No thanks." he said mildly. "I'm shit at football, remember? Zayn can tell you, he's probably still got a lump on his head from the time I accidentally nailed him." 

Zayn's mouth went dry as everybody looked at him, fondness in their eyes. They're expecting him to come back with some cute rebuttal, something like " _you're not number at football, but you're always number one to me_." or some other shit that'd make Niall blush. And that is what you'd expect when one half of a couple mentions their very first meeting. But Zayn- Zayn just couldn't do it right now. Because he was just trying to make Niall happy with opening that gate, and now he's sad, and Zayn didn't know what to do, but he knew being cutesy wouldn't help matters.  
"You guys play." Niall mumbled, kicking at a sod of dirt with the toe of his trainer. "I'm just- gonna go for a walk by myself. There's this oak tree I like...be back soon." 

Niall turned around and rushed away, walking quickly at first and then breaking into a run. His skinny but lithe limbs propelled him away swiftly, his frame disappearing among the trees. Zayn watched him go in stunned silence, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few long moments before Harry moved. He came over to Zayn and just looked at him, his green gaze full of sympathy and more than enough understanding.  
"Go after him." Harry said simply. "He wants you to, even if everything tells that he doesn't."  
Zayn gave a single nod and then ran after his boyfriend. But behind him, he heard Harry say,  
"And Louis? Count me in for the football, lemme just put my camera down." 

 

True to his word, Zayn found Niall beneath an oak tree. It was about a kilometer away from where they’d been before, and Zayn had to kick his way through shrubbery and undergrowth to even locate the bloody thing. Thankfully, it was absolutely massive, standing out as the biggest tree in the entire school. Zayn paused on the opposite side of the wide tree trunk, knowing Niall was somewhere on the other side and not knowing how to approach him. What does he do? What does he say?

Taking a deep breath, Zayn stepped forward, trying to keep his feet from snapping twigs on the ground. He went around the tree, running his fingers along the rough, wizened bark. He paused behind a large branch, concealing his face through the wet leaves so he could look at Niall without being seen himself. 

Niall was sitting on the damp ground with his legs splayed out in front of him. He leaned against the tree trunk, tipping his head back. He held a leaf in in his left hand, absentmindedly twirling it around his fingers. His eyes were tightly shut, a crease between his eyebrows. Zayn felt guilt course through him, taking his breath away with its severity. He’d caused this. 

“Niall.” he said quietly, his voice weak as he stepped out from behind the branch. “Can we talk, babe?’  
Niall slowly opened his eyes, looking up at Zayn. He didn’t look surprised by seeing Zayn here: he look like he’d expected his boyfriend to follow him. And Zayn didn’t know whether to be happy about that or not. They were locked in one another’s gazes for a few moments, making Zayn unable to breathe. This was important, this was pivotal. Niall could either let Zayn in or send him away again. 

And slowly, Niall’s hand went down to touch the ground beside him, patting it. It was a clear invitation for Zayn to sit down and he leapt at it, almost flinging himself to his knees in his haste to be beside Niall. Zayn settled into his position, making sure his shoulders didn’t brush against Niall’s. He didn’t want to startle him or anything. They just sat there in silence for a couple minutes, Zayn keeping his eyes on the patch of grass between his feet. He didn’t know what he’d see if he looked at Niall, and that scared him. 

“Do you realize how much I worry about you?” Niall said at last. Swallowing deeply, Zayn turned his head slightly to look at Niall, but he was still looking out into the field in front of them. “Do you, Zayn?”  
“I uh- I-” Zayn said uselessly, flicking his tongue over his dry lips. He liked to think he knew exactly what Niall thought about him and to what extent, but really, he wasn’t always sure.  
“You don’t need to respond, because I already know the answer. You don’t realize how much I worry about you, because you can’t.” Niall said, his voice detached. ‘And it’s nothing against you, it’s not your fault that you can’t comprehend it, because you’ve never- you’ve never lost somebody the way I did. 

“I worry about you almost constantly. I wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares about losing you. I’ve have three recurring ones since I’ve known you, but they’ve gotten even worse since we started dating. The first is that you get sick with some deadly disease. The nightmare always starts with your diagnosis, and it’s a different illness every time. And I spend all my time at the hospital with you, watching you get weaker and weaker and being totally unable to stop it. But I constantly tell myself that as long as I’m there, you’ll be okay, you’ll always be there waiting. Except one morning, my alarm doesn’t go off, and I’m late to the hospital, and you’re- you’re not in your bed when I arrive.”  
“Niall-” Zayn started, not knowing what to say or how to comfort him. Finally, his boyfriend looked at him, his expression desperately sad and so scared. His bottom lip was trembling from holding back tears, and Jesus Christ, did the mere thought of losing Zayn bring him to this point? Did this idea always make him ready to shatter?  
“The second nightmare is less plausible, but somehow, it scares me more. In this one, we’re just walking along the streets at home, holding hands like normal, right? And then this guy comes running around the corner, and he’s got a hostage and- and a gun. But what’s the worst is that the hostage is either Louis, or Liam, or Harry. So the man raises his gun and threatens to shoot them. But you, honorable to the last, dive for it and fight to get it out of his hands, and you- you get shot. I watch you fall to the ground with blood welling up from your chest, and I always used to think that you looked absolutely gorgeous in the color red, but not that shade.”  
“Ni, our town’s safe, nothing like that is gonna happen me-" Zayn said softly, trying to be soothing as he regained his wits. Niall was really opening up to him. He was betraying his deepest fears to Zayn, the things that scared him so much, they only entered his consciousness in the dark of the night. 

“But the third dream...I have that one the most often. It’s the worst one.” Niall whispered, looking forward again, like it hurt too much to look at his boyfriend. Zayn held his breath, wondering what the third terrible dream was. He had a guess, but he knew he couldn’t say it. Niall had to.  
“You crash your bike.” Niall said quickly, wanting to get it said. “You get into a car accident in this dream. The conditions are always different, either snow or rain or fog: It was even the beginning of summer one time. But three things always remain the same. You and your bike are always hit by a bigger vehicle, I always find you lying on the side of the street, and you always- you always die from your injuries.”

Zayn exhaled, finally letting his breath go, because his hunch had been correct. Niall was deathly afraid of losing Zayn, or anyone, the exact same way he’d lost his mother. Zayn dropped his forehead against Niall’s shoulder, nuzzling his face into the crook of Niall’s neck. Niall reached over and clumsily ran his fingers through Zayn’s hair.  
“That, Zayn.” Niall breathed, the air from his breath making Zayn’s fringe flutter. “Is my worst nightmare. But seeing you in any dangerous position puts my heart in my fucking throat. I nearly collapsed when I saw you hurdling over that gate today: what if you’d fallen and hurt yourself just because I was being a nostalgic idiot who wanted to see his old school? I never would’ve forgiven myself.”  
“But I didn’t.” Zayn offered weakly, knowing it wouldn’t be good enough for Niall. Sure, he didn’t, but he could have, and the risk alone was terrifying.  
“I asked you to stop, we all did, and you didn’t listen. Because it was for me.” Niall said. “Because it was something you thought I wanted, or needed, I dunno, you didn’t stop and think, and Zayn, I can’t have that. You can’t put me before your own safety, and I need you to promise me that you won’t do it again. And I would get you to promise that my three nightmares will never happen, but obviously, I know that isn't possible."  
“I promise, Niall.” Zayn whispered back, feeling his heart pound. “I promise I won’t. And the second thing? About your nightmares? I promise they won't happen either.”

Niall gave a tiny smile, leaning in and pressing his mouth against Zayn’s sweetly. Zayn leaned further back against the tree and Niall moved forward, kneeling in the space between his legs. As they kissed, Niall put a hand to Zayn’s cheek, his curled fingers pressed against his skin. His other hand danced up and down Zayn’s neck, taking note of all the lovebites he’d left there last night. Zayn bit down gently on Niall’s lower lip, feeling whatever reticence his boyfriend had moments earlier slip away. Their torsos melded together, Zayn’s chest pressed right against Niall’s as they shared breath. Zayn put his hands on Niall’s hips, rubbing his thumbs up and down the angular hipbones that a baggy sweatshirt still couldn’t conceal, and Niall gave a little whimper into Zayn’s mouth, a quiet noise of longing and emotion and maybe some desperation. 

Slowly, Zayn pulled back, chuckling as Niall followed him with his face tilted up, not wanting the kiss to be over. To distract him, Zayn began to press feather-light kisses to Niall’s jaw line, making him squirm at the ticklish feeling.  
“Sealed with a kiss, then?” Zayn mumbled against Niall’s neck as he nodded fervently.  
“Sealed with a kiss.” Niall repeated, his breathing heavy. “You big sap.”  
“Oi, I’m not the sap here.” Zayn said, deciding to defend himself and tease Niall at the same time. “You’re the one who brought up our first meeting.”  
(Zayn figured that if Niall knew about the ever-growing collection of artwork that Zayn based off him, then he might have an argument on his hands about who was the more sentimental, but he digressed.)

“Speaking of football,” Niall said weakly, seeming loathe to stop Zayn’s administrations but knowing he had to. “They’re probably wondering where we’ve got to, Liam might be dredging the lake to find our bodies, and there’s so much more I wanna show you in my town than the school.”  
“Yeah, you could show us more.” Zayn assented with a nod of his head. “Or we could just stay here all day and let me keep kissing you.”  
“As lovely as that sounds,” Niall giggled, turning his head into Zayn’s chest. “I think we should get going. I’m getting hungry again too, and my favourite bakery is just around the corner.”  
“Fine.” Zayn replied, pulling Niall in by the strings of his hoodie for one final, gentle kiss. Niall grinned into his mouth, so widely that their teeth almost clacked together. And as Zayn felt a matching smile spread across his own face, he decided that he truly didn’t know who was the bigger sap, and that it didn’t really matter anyway. 

 

Dierdre’s Bakery was a few streets away, a tiny little place tucked away on the corner of O'Connell Street. It had cracked stone steps, a faded blue door, and deep green ivy crawling up the walls. And Harry, being the aesthetic-loving, Starbucks-despising, hipster that he was, fell in love instantly.  
“Niall.” he said, almost wooden as he stared up at the building. “Why the hell wouldn’t you take us here first? Why didn’t we walk here from the ferry with our suitcases? Why aren’t we staying here with sleeping bags?”  
“I knew you’d like it here, H.” Niall said cheerily, pulling open the front door. “Take a photo, it’ll last longer, and you can add it to your album for this trip, yeah?”  
Harry nodded eagerly, scrambling to open the shutter of his camera and snap a few quick pictures of the bakery. He herded the other four boys onto the highest step, taking their photo, and at their urging, convinced a friendly passerby to take one with Harry in it too. And then, because the rain was picking up again and Zayn was actually kinda peckish now, they went inside. 

Unfortunately, it seemed like the entire population of Mullingar was also inside Dierdre’s Bakery. The queue went as far back as the front door and then looped around again, winding through the tables like a snake. The noise instead was almost deafening, the chatter of people and the clatter of the kitchen creating a din that rang in Zayn’s ears. He’d thought that they’d get a few funny looks, being blatantly British boys covered in sweat and mud from playing football in the middle of a classy bakery, but nobody even seemed to notice. The anonymity of it was refreshing. At home, everybody knew everything about them. Everyone knew Zayn as the boy with tattoos who drove a bike. But here, he was an unknown face, a stranger in a crowd of strangers. He liked the feeling of being hidden in plain sight.  
“Do you think we should go somewhere else?” Liam said hesitantly, eying the long line that they were currently at the very back of. Large crowds in confined spaces freaked Liam out sometimes. “We don’t want to waste our day away here, do we?”  
“Don’t worry about it, Payno.” Niall said with a wink, tapping the side of his nose. “I know somebody. Follow me, yeah?”

Niall ducked his head down and pushing his way through the crowd, using his bony elbows to shove his way forward. Despite his normal claustrophobia, he seemed fine in this environment, so Zayn got the feeling that this was something he’d done many times before. The other four boys looked at each other uncertainly before Zayn gave a shrug and followed his boyfriend, knowing the other three would fall in behind him. He watched as Niall’s blonde head bobbed through all the people, following a path that only he knew. He looked back at his friends and smiled winningly, turning a corner into a small hallway. There was a stark black door at the end of it and Niall strode towards it, laying a confident hand on the rusty handle.  
“Niall, what’s behind there?” Zayn asked curiously, wondering where the hell they were being taken.  
“It’s the kitchen.” Niall said, keeping the door shut as he looked at Zayn. Zayn felt his eyebrows fly up in surprise, because really? Niall Horan was infiltrating a kitchen of a clearly thriving business?  
“You’re sure we’re allowed back here?” Zayn said dubiously as Niall grinned, his eyes lighting up.  
“Trust me, I told you that I know somebody.” he said assuredly as he tugged the door open and stepped inside the kitchen. His friends had no choice but to follow him. 

The kitchen was even more bustling than the front of the bakery. Ovens went from floor to ceiling, the delicious smell of breads and pastries baking seeping through the air. Zayn and his friends looked around them, jumping at any sudden sounds in case they were about to be discovered. Niall, however, was perfectly at ease, strolling through the kitchen like he did this every single day, looking for this “somebody” that he knew. 

And for all Zayn knew, Niall might have done exactly that. 

“You know,” Niall said conversationally as he leaned against a flour-covered countertop, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s been ages since I’ve been here, but I’m hoping they still have my favourite thing on the menu.  
“What’s that, Niall?” Harry asked as he leaned over at the waist and lined the shutter of his camera up with a half-empty jar of sugar.  
“Oh, just cherry tarts. They’re kinda shit, but I always get them anyway, because my friend makes them and-”

From behind a row of ovens, there came a loud shriek and the clatter of a pan hitting the floor. And then a girl had vaulted around the corner, flinging herself into Niall’s general direction with an overjoyed scream. Zayn blinked in shock as Niall tottered backwards with the girl in his arms, laughing uproariously as they stumbled to the side and almost toppled to the ground. 

“Oh, I _knew_ it was you.” the nameless baker squealed into Niall’s chest as they regained their balance. “With your feckin’ cherry tarts line. You mofo, I made one bad batch when I was _twelve_. Now, they’re one of our best sellers, so karma’s a bitch, Horan.”  
“I swear to God, Siobhan, that one bad batch nearly killed me. There was eggshells in it!” Niall quipped, grinning as the girl, apparently named Siobhan, swatted him with the tea towel that’d been hanging on her apron. And then she was hitting him harder, punching at his shoulders with little, tightly-balled fists.  
“ _Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to visit_?” Siobhan screeched as Niall ducked to evade her hands. “I would’ve taken time off work so we could hang out!”  
“Come on, Siobhan, your grandparents own the place, don’t act like you don’t need to just bat your eyes at them and get the whole year off, with paid leave.” Niall replied with a grin, catching Siobhan’s hands and squeezing them tightly with his own. Zayn felt his heart swell in his chest at the sight. Here was a friend that clearly hadn’t left Niall in his darkest time. Here was a friend that he’d probably had for most of his life, one that truly missed him while he was gone. Zayn didn’t know how they knew each other yet. He didn’t know anything about this girl, except that her name was Siobhan, her grandparents owned this bakery, and that she had curly black hair, bright blue eyes, and skin paler than Niall’s. But he was already inclined to approve of her, because anyone that can make Niall as happy as Siobhan just did was good in Zayn’s book. 

Siobhan stopped her friend-driven assault on Niall and finally seemed to notice that they weren’t alone. Looking to her left, she took in each of the boys one by one, spending a little extra time looking at Liam. Siobhan smiled at him flirtatiously, her pretty face lighting up, and Liam blushed bright red, giving her a tiny little wave. Oh, Liam, you fox.  
“Friends of yours, then?” Siobhan asked, glancing at Niall with an arched eyebrow. Niall nodded in delight, almost tripping over himself to introduce all of them. He gave them the quick run-down on him and Siobhan. They’d known each other since they were three years old, when her family bought the house right across the street from Niall’s. They’d gone to primary school together too, raising hell with every poor teacher that tried to tame him. When it came time for secondary school, she’d gone to Saint. Bernadette’s, but they’d stayed as close as ever, running across the street after school to tell each other how their day had gone. 

Briefly, Zayn wondered how Siobhan reacted when Niall told her about his mother, and how she’d helped him. After all, she was right there as everything happened, had probably seen Niall’s spiral into depression and self-harm. And something told Zayn that she was too smart not to notice, so had Siobhan tried to stop him? But then he decided not to think about it right then, because this was supposed to be a happy meeting. 

Niall told them their backstory very quickly, beaming at Siobhan the entire time. Zayn could see the obvious affection he held for the girl, his easy body language showing the closeness between them. She slung an arm around his neck as she surveyed his new friends, her eyes sharp. Zayn could tell that she was trying to seize them all up, figuring out how they treated Niall and what their dynamic as a friend group was like. The four boys shook Siobhan’s flour-covered hands, each saying their name. She squeezed Liam’s hand particularly tight, giving him a cheeky wink.  
“Liam.” she said coquettishly. “That’s an Irish name, you know.”  
“Yeah.” Liam said awkwardly, seeming unsure how to respond. “I think I’ve got some Irish blood far down the line.”  
“Good, everybody needs a little Irish in them.” Siobhan replied, and oh God, poor Liam. The teenage baker turned back to Niall, her face shining with mirth.  
“Well, Niall, I think you’ve befriended possibly the fittest boys in Britain.” Siobhan said firmly, looking them all up and down once more. “Seriously, do all of you guys go to school together? God have mercy on the schoolgirls in your town.”  
Everybody chuckled, the ice sufficiently broken. Irish people were just so good at this, so naturally friendly that they automatically reassured everyone. Zayn had thought this since he’d met Niall, and visiting the country of his birth only reaffirmed the notion. Niall looked at Zayn right then, his gaze softening as he looked at his boyfriend. He glanced at Siobhan and then back at Zayn, the wheels in his head obviously turning with some thought. 

Suddenly, Niall’s hand was wrapped around Zayn’s, tugging him forward in front of Siobhan again. He interlocked their fingers tightly, squeezing hard. Niall’s hand was shaking, so Zayn gripped back just as tight, surprised by the affection in front of his old friend but not wanting to let Niall go in case he needed him.  
“Actually, I did more than just befriend this one.” Niall said breathlessly, sounding terrified but also excited. “Siobhan, meet my boyfriend, Zayn." 

_Meet my boyfriend_. 

_My boyfriend_. 

_Boyfriend_. 

Zayn’s hearing shorted out as those words registered, because holy fucking shit, Niall just called him his _boyfriend_. To one of his oldest friends, his best friend, somebody who probably didn’t know he was even questioning. All Zayn could feel was the hammering of his heart and Niall clenching his hand. Now Zayn’s was shaking too. He looked at Siobhan bashfully, feeling his cheeks turn red from delighted embarrassment. The girl stared at them, a stunned expression on her face, and Zayn felt nerves turn him to stone, because how was she gonna react?

And then Siobhan’s arms were around both of them, her face pressed into their touching shoulders as she jumped up and down in ecstasy. Her voice was so high with excitement, it took Zayn a couple moments to decipher what she was saying, but once he did, he felt stupid for being worried.  
“ _Get in_ , Niall.” she squealed, shaking them both and pushing them closer together with her spindly arms. “Oh my lord, I can totally get behind this, you guys are so cute and I’ve only known for thirty seconds. Niall, you better tell me everything, every minute detail. I refuse to be denied a single thing, especially because you didn’t tell me as everything was happening!!”  
“Okay, Siobhan.” Niall said good-naturedly, giving Zayn’s hand another squeeze and sending a warm, relieved smile his way. Zayn felt joy swell in his chest, a few happy tears pricking his eyes. He was so fucking proud of Niall. It was only a few months since Niall had bawled in front of Zayn in the art room, after telling him he didn’t know what his sexuality was. And now...now he could comfortably tell his oldest friend about his relationship with barely batting an eye. 

Niall had grown so much, in the best possible way, and it made Zayn’s heart sing. He was more comfortable in himself, more proud of who he was as a person. And in a society that’d come so far but still had such a long way to go with acceptance, proud of your sexuality was the best thing you could be. Sometimes, it was the only thing you could be. 

“I think we should have cherry tarts to celebrate!” Siobhan cried happily, dashing back to the countertop she’d been working at when they came in. “Liam, wanna help me pass them out?”  
Liam readily assented, probably not recognizing the baker’s clear attempt to get closer to him. They passed the tarts around, the sweet smell making Zayn’s mouth water. The pastries were hot in their hands, everybody passing them back and forth between their palms.  
“Now, despite what Niall says,” Siobhan said, sending a pointed look her friend’s way. “These are my specialty. No eggshells anymore, trust me.”  
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a good lawyer, we can sue if we get semonella, mates.” Louis joked and Siobhan burst into laughter, her button nose scrunching up. Louis winked at her, his way of letting her know he hadn’t really meant it.“Let’s all try these fantastic desserts at once.”  
“Right.” Siobhan said with a nod. “With one condition: Zayn and Niall feed each other.”

Zayn choked in mortification, fixing his eyes on his feet as everybody looked at him and his boyfriend. But Niall giggled, nodding happily, so Zayn figured that if Niall wasn’t embarrassed by this, he could handle it too. The Irish boy stepped over to Zayn, raising his chin up with a cool hand. Zayn obligingly opened his mouth, feeling himself blush again, and Niall brought the tart to his lips. He took a bite compliantly, the flaky pastry and sweet cherries dominating his tastebuds. He chewed a couple times and then swallowed thickly, giving Siobhan a thumb’s up with a mumbled,  
“It’s really good.”  
“Niall next.” Siobhan prompted, pointing with her chin towards the boy. Zayn repeated the process with Niall, feeling a smile of endearment flicker on his lips as Niall ate half the tart in one go. Niall beamed at him, a smudge of vanilla icing on his cheek, and Zayn reached over, wiping it away with his thumb gently. He heard Siobhan give a delighted shriek, clapping her hands together at the apparent cuteness, but Zayn barely noticed. All he could see was Niall looked up at him. Part of him was tempted to just grab his boyfriend and kiss him, knowing that Niall would taste sweeter than any dessert, but then decided against it. It’d just make everyone uncomfortable, and it might give Siobhan an aneurysm. 

The group settled down then, hopping up on countertops or sitting on unopened bags of flour. Harry was the only one who remained standing, alternating between taking random photos or reading the ingredients labels. (Probably checking for carbs or cholesterol or whatever else his healthy ass avoided at all costs.) Niall and Zayn shared a countertop, discreetly holding hands between them. Siobhan was perched on top of a mini fridge, swinging her long legs back and forth. She and Niall chatted about everything and anything, mostly filling him in on the past five months in Mullingar. 

“Oh yeah, the football team was utter rubbish this year, Cormac swears up and down that it’s because you weren’t there, remember everyone called you the lucky charm last year?”

“Remember I was dating Rory when you moved? Well, he’s a dickhead. I found him and Fionnuala Rafferty snogging at a nightclub. I ended it then and there, and because I’m such a lovely person, even offered Fionnuala my lipstick, because her’s was clearly all mussed. He kissed like a wet fish.”

“Transition Year is the biggest waste of time on the planet, you’re so lucky you missed it. I’m spending my six months of work experience here, which is nothing new. Plus, learning Irish continues to be a chore, but I learned a couple useful phrases to spit at people I hate. For example, I told Rory to _póg mo thóin_.”

(Being unfluent in Irish, Zayn didn’t know what that meant, but he figured it wasn’t complimentary. Later, Niall would tell him it meant “Kiss my ass,” which given the circumstances and how fiery Siobhan was, seemed downright tame.)

“Nialler, you have got to go surfing. I was out yesterday, and the waves were bloody incredible-”  
“What?” Niall interjected suddenly, sitting up ramrod straight. He’d just been listening quietly, letting Siobhan say everything she needed to get said, but now he was totally energized. His blue eyes were burning with a fervor that Zayn had only seen a few times: He only ever looked this passionate when he was playing an instrument, or if he was standing up for something, and he’d even looked at Zayn like that on occasion, after a heated kiss.  
“The surf’s good?” Niall continued, leaning forward and staring at Siobhan intently. “But it’s never good in March, that’s why I wasn’t down at the beach-”  
“That’s never stopped you before, Horan.” Siobhan snorted, with a dismissive shake of her head. “Remember that summer when we were twelve, with the American bloke...Cian, I think his name was? I thought you’d grow gills. You used to be out there every day, bobbing up and down on your board even if the waves were totally flat, just because you worshipped the ground he walked on-”

 

Woah woah woah _woah_. What? Niall Horan, the boy who’s afraid of almost everything, surfed? Possibly, in Zayn’s opinion, the most dangerous activity there was? No. No way. That was not possibly true. Siobhan was just taking the piss, in such an unbelievable way, that it was nearly laughable. 

 

Okay, so apparently Niall Horan, the boy who’s afraid of almost everything, surfed. And he was fucking amazing at it. 

 

Zayn sat on the beach and tried to wrap his head around this curveball. Siobhan had ushered them out of the kitchen soon after, urging Niall to go to the local beach before it got too dark. They’d piled into a taxi that she’d flagged down and then arrived at Strandhill, which literally looked a postcard. It was a massive beach, huge boulders and rocks littering the shoreline leading down to the water. Two mountains, called Knocknarea and Benbulbin, respectively, surged into the skyline, casting shadows in the fading sun along the waves. 

Despite being breathtakingly beautiful, Standhill was surprisingly untouched by tourism. There were a few shops leading up to the beach, a couple motels, a tiny church with seashells in the walls, and a pub aptly named the Strand. There was even an emerald green cannon, left by the Spanish Armada when they’d crashed here, hundreds of years ago. Little children were scrambling all over it, jumping off the top with ice cream cones clutched in their hands. It seemed like a piece of paradise that the world hadn’t yet tainted, and Zayn hoped it never would be. 

Even though Zayn found Strandhill rather Edenic, he couldn't fight his terror over being there. Because past all the little shops and motels, there was a beach board rental, which Niall bounded over to and promptly rented five boards and wetsuits for the evening. He didn't even have to pay, because the owner, a man named Stevie with a scraggly beard and no hair, recognized him instantly. After delighting over "Niall being home" and "bringing the Brits with him," the five boys were left alone to haul the boards down to the beach and then change into the wetsuits in a wooden hut, half hidden in the rocks. 

Or well, Liam, Niall, and Louis all got ready to surf. Zayn took one look at the swiftly approaching tide and shook his head hurriedly, feeling queasy. Harry, probably sensing Zayn's discomfort and maybe remembering his own nausea the last time he was in water, opted to stay on land with him. Zayn felt guilt twinge him briefly as Niall watched him hang back, not following Louis and Liam into the hut. But Niall gave Zayn an understanding smile as he left, so he figured that his boyfriend didn't mind too much. Zayn and Harry sank down into the sand, getting comfy as they waited for their three friends to reappear. Harry took photos of everything, grinning at the good ones and pouting at the bad. And Zayn just sat there, burying his hands in the sand. He liked the texture of it much better than the beaches at home. Whereas that sand was pale yellow and floury, this sand was grittier and golden brown, reminding Zayn of the clay he used in pottery. 

Zayn rolled a handful into a ball, clenching his hand into a fist and watching as the sand erupted over his fingers. He tried to focus on that instead of the imminent terror awaiting him. Because sure, he wasn't getting into the water, but Niall was, and that was nearly worse. Just seeing him in the waves would be bad enough, but this beach was particularly dangerous, because it had no lifeguards on duty. If something did go wrong, God forbid, then nobody would have any fucking clue how to react. He couldn't get the image of Niall's blonde head disappearing under the water and not bobbing back up out of his mind. What if Niall got caught in a riptide? Or if one of the other boys panicked and dragged him down? There were so many things that could go wrong, and Zayn didn’t fucking know CPR!

Zayn chucked his sand a few feet away and tried not to think about it. He failed, but he still tried. 

"Alright lads!" Niall's voice sounded. Zayn twisted to the side, watching as the three boys reemerged from the changing areas, identical blue and white surfboards under their arms. "Now, the water'll be kinda cold to start of with, so you might wanna take it at a bit of a run."  
With that, Niall started to sprint towards the water, holding his board overhead. Watching him run, Zayn felt way too many sinful thoughts course through his head. But really, he probably could've gone his whole life without seeing Niall Horan in a wetsuit. It clung to him like a second skin, enunciating Niall's toned legs and the ever-broadening muscles of his chest. Zayn watched as Niall ran, the zipper that went up the back of his wetsuit glinting in the weak sunlight, and felt his cheeks flush at the sight. 

_I've never wanted to unzip something so badly in my whole life, holy fuck_. Zayn thought, hoping that Harry wasn't noticing his blush. _He could very easily drown right now and I'm having these thoughts, shame on me...but bloody hell, does it have to be so fucking tight?_

Niall catapulted himself into the water, throwing his board down and then flinging himself on top of it. He let out a whoop of exhilaration as he landed, paddling around to beam at them.  
"C'mon, guys!" Niall called to Liam and Louis. "You're feckin' slow!"  
"I'll show you slow, Horan." Louis jeered back as he too hefted his board higher and started to run. He rushed straight into the water, not giving himself any time to adjust before he put his head under. And then seconds later, Louis was scrambling back up, screaming blue murder.  
"KINDA COLD, NI? _KINDA_?" he screeched, spitting salt water out of his mouth. Niall didn't respond, just laughing as Liam entered the water more cautiously. Zayn watched as they floated around, half heartedly splashing one another. Niall was buzzing with energy, clearly rearing to go, but was kindly waiting for his other two friends to be ready. Again, Zayn felt nerves clench his stomach at the thought of Niall going out any deeper than his fucking ankles. Beside him, Harry shifted to look at Zayn, putting a hand on his tense shoulder.  
"He'll be fine, Niall seems like a pro." Harry said soothingly. "Relax, Z."  
"I am relaxed." Zayn mumbled petulantly. "Not a bother."  
"Really? Because your shaking hands clenched around that sand indicate otherwise." Harry replied, his tone dry, and Zayn hurriedly looked down, seeing that his hands were in fact trembling.  
"Fine." Zayn muttered back, reluctantly loosening his grip. "But if he gets pulled out to sea, just pitch me in there after him."  
"But you can't swim, Zayn."  
"Bingo, Harry." 

 

The next hour was agony for Zayn. He just sat there, getting more and more nervous the deeper the boys went. As Louis and Liam grew in confidence in the water, Niall edged them deeper, until he and Louis were both up to their chests. Every time a wave crashed over Niall's head, masking his entire body for a few moments, Zayn gasped, training his eyes on the water until he saw his boyfriend again. Harry, however, seemed perfectly at ease. He switched his camera to the video setting and filmed a little as Niall showed Liam and Louis the basics of surfing. For awhile, they were just kneeling on the boards, catching a wave and letting it push them to shore that way. Liam seemed a bit more comfortable than Louis, probably reassured by his height. But to his credit, Louis hung in there with them, not letting his hesitance stop him from trying to learn. 

But the real star was Niall. Zayn marveled at how natural he was in the ocean, swimming up and under the waves like a goddamn otter. At one point, he just floated on his back with his surfboard attached to his ankle by a strap, letting the waves buffet him back and forth (and nearly causing Zayn a stroke in the process). But the real fun began when Niall decided that they'd had enough of the basic training and actually started to surf. He demonstrated to Louis and Liam, laying on his board and paddling up to a wave with swift, sure strokes. Right as the wave reached its crest, Niall popped up, landing on the board with his feet firmly planted. He twisted to the side and leaned over, keeping his centre of balance low as he rode the wave. 

It was fucking terrifying to watch. 

But it was also unbelievably beautiful. 

Zayn nearly wanted to get the image tattooed, that's how beautiful he thought it was. Niall cut quite a figure, the stark blackness of his suit contrasted against the clearness of the water and the lightness of his hair. Because the board was blue, it blended in amazingly, seeming like it wasn't there at all. Niall looked like he was gliding through the sea on his own force, his wiry body taut with power and energy. The white water was closing in on him, so he leaned over lower, and Zayn watched with bated breath as Niall disappeared once more, the wave covering his head. 

Five seconds passed, no sign of Niall. 

_He's gonna come up_. 

Ten seconds. 

_Real funny, Ni. Making me nearly pass out with nerves while you show off how long you can hold your breath_. 

Twenty. 

_Niall, where THE FUCK are you_?

At thirty seconds, Zayn had just stood up and was preparing himself to dive in when Niall's head broke the surface of the water. He let out an exhilarated guffaw, a raucous sound of pure joy. Zayn slowly sank back down as Niall continued to laugh, standing up and raising his hands up in the air, then letting himself fall backward into the water.  
"Oh, I've missed that." he said blissfully as he wallowed around. "I didn't even realize how much until right now. Liam, Louis, please give it a shot. There's no rush like it."  
"I'm gonna try." Liam said with determination, pushing his board further out into the ocean. Louis, not to be beaten, followed him with a steely look in his blue eyes. Knowing Louis' personality, they'd be out here all night until both he and Liam surfed properly. 

Zayn shook his head disbelievingly at what just happened, and then turned to look at Harry, a matching look of wonder in his eyes. But Harry wasn't looking back at Zayn: he was staring down at his camera. Wordlessly he handed it to Zayn, who peered closer at the screen and looked at the last few pictures Harry'd taken. And when he realized what he was looking at, his breath caught in his throat. 

It was Niall, on his board, just like Zayn had described him. The photos were taken within milliseconds of each other, showing the progression of Niall on the wave. It began with him paddling up to the wave, jumping on, riding it all the way in, and then finished with the tumultuous swirl of white foam cascading over his body. Zayn could just see his blonde hair shining through the water.  
"Harry, I-" Zayn said, fumbling to find the words he wanted to say. He didn't know how to describe what that series of pictures made him feel. Awe, joy, terror: kinda everything that the sea- and Niall- made him feel in general. "You- these- I just-"  
"I know, Zayn." Harry said, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know." 

 

Thirty minutes later, Niall had caught countless waves, Liam a modest few, and Louis none. And you could just tell how pissed off he was getting about it. Zayn could hear him mutter vehement curses under his breath as he swam around, not managing to stand up on every wave that came his way. He mumbled things like, “This is fuckin’ stupid.” and “Football’s so much better anyway, is this even considered a sport?” It would’ve been funny, if Zayn couldn’t see how visibly upset Louis was about the whole thing. And Harry could see it too, because he put his camera down and focused more intently on the water, a worried expression on his face. 

“Do you think we should just convince him to stop?” Zayn asked quietly, eyeing the incoming tide with trepidation. It was getting late, they couldn’t be out here all night. “It’s causing him more stress than enjoyment at this point.”  
“It’s Louis.” Harry said, his tone shaky. “He’s a perfectionist. He has to be good at everything, and he doesn’t stop trying until he is. He doesn’t give up.”

Zayn quickly realized the implication behind Harry’s words. Louis thought he wasn’t good at being with Harry, and in that case, he’d stopped trying. He’d given up then: given up on Harry, on himself, on them. Zayn bit his lip as Harry sighed, raising his legs to his chest and resting his chin on his kneecaps. His eyes were still trained on the water, never leaving Louis’ form. Zayn didn’t know when his broken heart would heal, or if it ever would. 

Zayn turned his head away and looked at the boys in the water again. Because Harry was still so in love, it hurt to see. 

 

“Right.” Louis said savagely, throwing his board back down on the water. He flung himself on top of it and started to swim out to the approaching wave. “I’m getting this one.”  
“Go for it, mate!” Niall said encouragingly, from where he was floating around on his own board. Zayn felt his heart soften at the sight, because Niall hadn’t given up on his friend yet. He still insistently believed that Louis could do this. 

Louis gave a determined nod of his head, beginning to kick towards the wave. He swam forward, using mostly his arms to propel him. It was still quite far away, giving Louis enough time to prepare himself. As he got closer, Louis popped up on his knees. According to Niall, this position was easier for beginner surfers, letting them get their bearings on the board without having to stand too early. 

Zayn took a deep breath as Louis got closer to the crest of the wave, hoping he’d make it. This was where it’d always gone wrong for him in the past. He’d try to jump up to land on his feet, and then lose his balance, going crashing down into the water as the wave rolled right over him. Harry reached over and gripped Zayn’s shoulder tightly, his bony fingers digging into his shoulder blade.  
“Go, Louis!” he called, fighting the tremor in his voice. “Go on, mate, you can do this.”  
Here, Harry elbowed Zayn in the side, startling him. He looked at Zayn pleadingly, his eyes huge.  
“Help me.” he whispered. “He needs encouragement, and I need to give it to him, but I just- I just- it hurts and I need help and please, Zayn-”  
So, Zayn nodded, standing up and tugging Harry to his feet. He cupped his hands to his mouth and bellowed,  
“Go on, Tommo!”  
Louis looked back briefly and flashed them a nervous smile. Then he faced forward again, swimming with renewed vigor. The wave crested at long last, and Louis jumped. Zayn shut his eyes, sending up a silent prayer that he landed it. Louis needed this win. Zayn didn’t know if he truly deserved it, but he certainly needed it. And then, Harry’s sharp elbow back in his rib made Zayn’s eyes fly open. He stared at the water, where Louis was…

Louis was surfing. 

He was standing straight up on the board, his arms out wide to keep his balance. Steadily advancing toward them, he wobbled to and fro, windmilling his arms. Harry let out an overjoyed whoop, throwing both hands in the air. In his excitement, he nearly fell, so Zayn threw an arm around him and pulled him into his side, laughing into his hair.  
“Go Louis!” Harry cheered, clapping his hands together.  
“I’m gonna fucking fall!” Louis screeched back, his tone betraying how happy he actually was to have pulled this off. Niall stood up from his position in the water, nodding with approval and satisfaction.  
“Stay low, Lou.” he advised merrily, pushing his wet hair off his forehead. “You’re doing great, I just hope you don’t hit any swells-”

Niall spoke too soon, unfortunately. Right as Louis neared the shoreline, his ride almost over, a huge burst of water sprung up and hit him in the face. Sputtering through a mouthful of water, Louis staggered to the left of his board, trying to stay on. But he was too unbalanced. With a loud curse and a splash, Louis hit the water on his stomach, lying in the sand and staying still. 

Harry tugged himself out of Zayn’s grasp, running toward Louis as quickly as his long, Bambi-like legs would allow. Zayn, Niall, and Liam all followed, going to check if their friend was okay. Harry got there first, falling to his knees beside Louis’ prone body and grabbing his shoulders. Zayn kneeled opposite him, his heart jumping when he saw that Louis’ entire body was shaking. Jesus Christ, was he having a seizure or something?

But with relief flooding through him, Zayn realized that Louis was laughing. Everybody sat back on the heels, looking at each other with foolish, but happy smiles on their faces. Except Harry. He stayed leaning right over Louis’ body, his hands gently resting on Louis’ shoulders.  
“Are you okay?” he asked, his own smile flickering across his lips as he listened to Louis’ laugh. It was a great sound, one that Zayn hadn’t heard in a long time and really, really missed. Louis’ laugh was high-pitched, a throaty sound that welled up in his throat and then spilled over. He giggled hard, putting his hands to his stomach.  
‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” he wheezed, biting his lip to try and keep the sound in. “Just amazed, is all.”  
“Amazed at what, Lou?” Liam asked, seeming totally ready to run back to the bed and breakfast and grab that first aid kit. “Amazed that you surfed? You shouldn’t be, you were great.”  
“No, not that.” Louis replied, wiping at the damp sand sticking to his face. “Amazed at you lot. You were all so proud of me for being a little less than mediocre at surfing.. It amazes me.”

Here, Louis’ face suddenly crumpled. This time, he bit his lip to keep tears back. Harry was staring at him fervently, rubbing his thumbs soothingly back and forth across the bones of his shoulders. Louis let out a miserable chuckle, holding a hand to his face and pinching the bridge of his nose.  
“You’re proud of me for that, for managing to stand up on a bloody surfboard….and my own fucking father has never been proud of me for anything.”  
Everybody looked at each other then, guilt on their faces. Knowing Louis, they really should’ve put that one together sooner. Zayn glanced at Niall, seeing his blue eyes huge with worry, and he reached over, taking his boyfriend’s hand and holding it tightly. Louis gave a strangled sob, giving into the tears sliding down his cheeks.  
“Fuck, I just want him to be proud of me.” Louis choked out, punching a fist weakly against the ground beneath him. And then he bolted up, running away as fast as possible, kicking up clouds of sand beneath his feet. Reaching the rocks at the beachfront, he scrambled on top of them, almost crawling on his hands and knees to get away. 

 

Zayn blinked in shock, wondering when everything went so sour. Niall clung to his hands tighter, beginning to shiver from the cold wind blowing. Liam opened his mouth to speak, probably trying to console them, but then he closed it again. Even Liam Payne, the best counselor ever, didn’t know what to say. None of them knew what to do, either. 

Except Harry. 

Wordlessly, he stood up. Unwinding his camera from his neck, Harry handed it to Liam, probably knowed he’d take the best care of it. He gave each of them a nod, looking determined. And then, Harry whirled around on his heels, beginning to run and follow the path of Louis’ footprints in the sand. As he went, his advice to Zayn from earlier rang in his ears. 

“ _Go after him. He wants you to, even if everything tells you that he doesn't_.”

 

Then, it was just Niall, Liam, and Zayn left sitting on the beach. Liam laid out flat on the sand, using his surfboard as a pillow. Zayn sat with his legs splayed out in front of him, with Niall nestled into his side, his wet hair tickling his chin. The chill from Niall’s body was leeching into his clothes, but Zayn didn’t really care much. He sighed, keeping his eyes on the sunset reflected on the water, and pressed a kiss into Niall’s hair, tasting a tang of salt.  
“I miss Sophia.” Liam said suddenly, looking up at the sky. “Like… obviously I was really flattered talking to Siobhan today, and she’s gorgeous, Niall, she really is, don’t get me wrong. But she’s not my girl, and I know it’s only been two days and I’m probably ridiculous to you guys, but Sophia is my girl, the girl I love, and I truly miss her.”  
“Don’t mind Siobhan, she’d flirt with anything.” Niall said good-naturedly. “And Liam, I’m not gonna hold you hostage in the beach or anything. Give her a ring, your phone’s in your jean’s pocket, right?”  
“That’s a great idea, Ni!” Liam said, jumping up and brushing the sand off his legs. “She’d be out of work by now, so I’d probably catch her.”  
Liam paused, looking at the water. He tilted his head to the side, considering something. And then he looked back at the couple, hope in his eyes.  
“Should I tell her?” he asked in a rush. “Should I tell her I love her?”  
“Not over the phone.” Niall said cautiously. “But yeah, I’d tell her soon. You’ve stewed over it long enough, I think. And if our other two friends are any indication, holding yourself back in that regard just ends in heartbreak.”  
“When we get home then.” Liam said, his voice strong. “I’m telling her as soon as our ferry docks in England. I’m not even going to go home and unpack or anything.”  
“Love is.” Niall said with a chuckle. “Go on, Leemo. Go talk to your girl.”

Liam left, a renewed spring to his step, and finally, it was just Zayn and Niall. The blonde boy leaned back on Zayn’s chest, looking up at him with a blissful smile on his face. Zayn kissed the tip of his nose, and Niall giggled, squirming away.  
“Why didn’t you tell me you surfed?” Zayn asked cajolingly. “I know I’m scared of water, but that would’ve been cool to know.”  
“I don’t really know.” Niall said with a shrug. “It didn’t feel important, there’s no oceans near our town, so it’s not like we all could’ve gone anyway. I almost went crazy the first couple weeks through, not having the sea nearby. I’d walk around school with ‘Ocean Music’ on in my headphones to calm myself.”  
“Oh, Niall.” Zayn said affectionately, his voice full of endearment that he just couldn’t hide. “I would've taken you to the ocean, if I’d known that you missed it that much.”  
“I don’t know if it was the ocean, or just this beach in particular. I spent my childhood here, with Siobhan and Cormac and everybody else, just splashing around. But then, the summer that I was twelve, I learned to surf. There was this American guy, named Cian, who had family in this area and stayed the entire summer with them. He was a little bit older than us, maybe fourteen, and didn’t know anyone else, so Siobhan and I kinda took him under our wing, sorta. But the thing was, he was from California, and he surfed like every single day there. So, he was absolutely desperate to get out on the waves here, and because he tagged along with us, he brought us with him.”

“I was hooked from day one. The only other thing I’d ever loved that much was music, but surfing brought me a different kind of rush. It made me feel almost dangerous, like I let my inhibitions lower a little. And Cian was great as well. Siobhan still swears he had a crush on me, and that’s why he insisted that I learn how to surf, but I don’t think he did. Twelve year old me would’ve been oblivious anyway, considering that seventeen year old me wasn’t much better, after meeting you.”

“I just love it here.” Niall continued, his eyes shining as he looked around him. He looked lost in his memories, and for the first time all day, Zayn wasn’t worried that they weren’t happy. He didn’t even feel a flash of jealousy at the mention of this Cian guy, because clearly, things had been as innocent as could be. “I have a collection of rocks from Strandhill, they’re in a box under my bed, and whenever I really miss it, I take them out and look at them. I even posted one to Cian, once he got back to California. We’ll have to get you one, start your collection. One for every time we visit, even though I’d cart them all back if I could.”  
“I’d really like that, Niall.” Zayn said, feeling his heart pound at the thought that he’d be back here with Niall someday. Niall gave a satisfied nod, pressing a quick kiss to Zayn’s cheek and mumbling a soft “Good” against his skin. 

They went silent for awhile, just listening to the waves crash against the sand and enjoying the presence of one another. But then, Niall’s voice sound once more.  
“My parents got married here.” he whispered, looking at the sand beneath his feet. “On this beach.”  
“Really?” Zayn said, his voice hushed. This was the first time Niall had mentioned his mum all day. Zayn had been wondering when Maura would come up, given that everything they’d done today must been full of memories of her. He wasn’t really surprised that it was now, when Niall was his most relaxed and nobody but Zayn was around.  
“Yeah. Well, they were married at the church up the road.” Niall corrected himself. “But the reception was here. They got a marquee tent and a band and there was lanterns lined up along the beach for when it got dark. Everybody thought my mum was insane, she always said that her mother nearly keeled over when she insisted with going through it. The entire evening, all the guests fussed over her wedding dress, in case she got sand in it. And my mum got so fed up, that she slipped her heels off, grabbed my dad’s hand, and they ran into the water together. That’s the kind of person she was.”  
“That sounds beautiful, Niall.” Zayn whispered, knowing how major this was. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”  
“I’ll show you their wedding photos sometime.” Niall replied, eyes back on the ocean. “She looked so beautiful.”

Zayn put a hand on Niall’s back, and Niall leaned his head on his shoulder. In that moment, Zayn realized something. That was the first time that Niall had ever mentioned his mother without being sad. He was just recounting a story, a family story that’d probably be passed along to every Horan. He was reminiscing about a time long past: nothing more, nothing less. And that, to Zayn at least, meant that Niall was healing. 

“So, how about it, then?” Niall said suddenly, lifting his head from the crook of Zayn’s neck.  
“How about what?” Zayn asked, feeling sleep weigh his eyelids down. A tiny part of his brain panicked, telling him that Niall might’ve just suggested that they do what his parents had done, but really, Zayn was feeling too tired to react to the thought. Niall nodded at the water, pointing with his chin.  
“Get in the water with me.” he said simply. 

And okay, no. Thinking about marriage would be easier. 

Zayn’s eyes flew open, whatever exhaustion he’d felt disappearing instantly. He stared at Niall incredulously, shaking his head from side to side rapidly. Niall, however, looked totally calm, dammit.  
“No.” Zayn said shortly, feeling terror seize him. “There’s no way I’ll ever get up on a surfboard.”  
“You don’t have to surf.” Niall replied. “We can just- swim around. You might like it.”  
“I guarantee, I wouldn’t.” Zayn said shakily. “As I can’t swim, at all.”  
“I can teach you.” Niall said, bumping his head against Zayn’s shoulder. “It’s easy. Plus, you’re light, so you’d float.”  
“Niall, I don’t know….” Zayn said half-heartedly, looking back at the tide. “It’s so deep and so dark, and- and if I’m in there with you, then there’s nobody out here to make sure you’re okay.”  
“I’ll be fine with you in there with me.” Niall said encouragingly. “I basically grew up in water, you don’t need to worry.”  
“Ni, I really don’t believe that I can-”

Then, Niall stood up, wiping his sandy hands on his legs. He offering Zayn a hand to pull him up, pairing it with the gentlest smile Zayn’d ever seen him give.  
“I’m going to be horribly cliched right now and ask you something, okay?”  
“Okay.” Zayn mumbled, feeling his stomach flip more than a Russian trapeze artist at the circus.  
“Zayn, do you trust me?” Niall asked quietly, his eyes mild. “And it’s perfectly fine if you don’t. I understand completely. But I just want to know.”  
And Zayn couldn’t do anything else but nod. Because anything else would’ve be a blatant lie, and he’s never been able to lie to Niall. 

 

Ten minutes later, Zayn was standing at the water’s edge of Strandhill Beach, in a wetsuit that probably reduced his chances of fathering children someday by at least 40%, on the verge of hyperventilation.  
“Don’t let go of me.” Zayn choked out as he and Niall waded into the water together, Zayn’s shaking hand being held by Niall’s sure one. Niall leaned in close, pressing a kiss to the nape of Zayn’s neck.  
“Not even for a second, petal.” he murmured, his breath warm against Zayn’s already freezing skin. They walked deeper and deeper, Zayn jumping every time a wave splashed against his legs. Niall put a reassuring hand on the small of his back, saying quiet words of encouragement as Zayn got startled. Once he deemed them deep enough, Niall stopped their progression and squatted down into the cold water, barely flinching. He held both his hands out to Zayn, so Zayn took them, slowly sinking down to his knees so he was eye-level with his boyfriend. Niall beamed at him, rubbing his thumbs across the outside of his hands.  
“This isn’t so bad, is it?” he asked.  
“It’s worse.” Zayn groaned with his eyes shut, nearly jumping a mile in the air as his foot brushed something. (He didn't know what and he truly didn't want to either.) Niall chuckled a little, chucking Zayn under the chin before he said,  
“Why don’t you try floating?”  
‘I’ll sink.” Zayn said through his gritted teeth. “I’ll go straight to the bottom.”  
“No, you won’t.” Niall said assuredly. “Because I’ll be holding you up. Go on, give it a try. It’s just like lying in bed, but better.”

Zayn gradually loosened his vice-like grip on Niall’s hands, flopping down in the water slowly. He watched as his feet rose up to be aligned with the rest of his body, panicking slightly as the water moved him from side to side. But then, Niall’s arms were supporting him, one hand on his back and the other on the crook of his knees. Zayn fought the urge to cling to him and tried to relax, letting out a breath that whistled through his clenched jaw.  
“You’re okay.” Niall whispered. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.”  
Despite his better judgement, Zayn believed him. He sank down into Niall’s touch, feeling his tense muscles loosen. He shut his eyes again, but not from terror. He was truly trying to enjoy this. Zayn focused on the sound of seagulls flying overhead and the feeling of Niall’s warm palms through his wetsuit.  
“Enjoying yourself a bit more?” Niall asked after some time had passed. Zayn cracked an eye open and saw Niall looked at him, framed by the setting sun.  
“More than I expected.” Zayn admitted reluctantly. “This floating business isn’t so bad.”  
“So, you want me to let go and teach you how to kick-”  
“No!” Zayn exclaimed, finally giving into the urge and throwing an arm around Niall’s shoulders. “Don't do that, anything but that.”  
“Good.” Niall whispered into his hair. “Because really, I just wanted you closer.”  
“Sneaky bastard.” Zayn muttered, resting his cheek against Niall’s chest. He was, quite literally, being held bridal-style. And he sorta liked it too. Oops. Niall giggled and started to kiss Zayn’s neck. And Christ on a bike, they’re not making out in the ocean.  
“Okay, Mr. Horan, if that’s where you wanna bring this, let’s get back on dry land, get changed out of these fucking suits, and then see how we go.”  
Zayn stood up and Niall grabbed his hand, tugging him into a run. He didn’t know if Niall was moving so quickly because of cold, or anticipation of what was about to come. Zayn just knew he didn’t want Niall’s grip on Zayn’s hand to ever loosen. He tried to imagine what colors he’d use to describe this moment, this eventual memory. And, as always, Zayn came back to blonde and blue. 

 

Zayn stood outside the changing hut with his frigid hands under his armpits, hopping from foot to foot to keep warm. He’d basically forced Niall to get changed first, seeing how much his boyfriend was shivering from being in the water twice. (Part of Zayn really, _really_ wanted to be in there with Niall, but that was beside the point).  
“Uh, Zayn?” Niall said suddenly, popping his head out from behind the curtain. “The zipper of my wetsuit is jammed, can you come in here and help me?”

Oh _shit_. 

Trying to keep his cool, Zayn merely nodded, letting Niall step back from the curtain and then following him in. He gave himself a few seconds to breathe as he closed the curtain, making sure it wasn’t going to be blown open by the wind. Turning on his bare feet, he looked at Niall, who was standing in the corner, contorting his arms into various positions to unzip his suit. Zayn stifled a laugh at the sight, walking closer.  
"I'd say you're in a jam." Zayn said, feeling himself grin as Niall snorted, reaching over to swat him.  
"Just help me." Niall griped. Zayn chuckled, reaching over and fiddling with the stuck zipper. It was caught on the stretchy fabric of his wetsuit, so Zayn worked his fingers underneath it, trying to get it free. With a tug, Zayn pulled the zipper from the material, pausing before he unzipped it. Resting his warm fingers against Niall's cool skin, he unzipped the wetsuit, all the way down to the small of his back.  
"There you go." Zayn mumbled, feeling slightly dizzy from his proximity to Niall. His boyfriend shucked his arms out of the clothing, grabbing the collar and rolling the wetsuit all the way down to his waist. And Zayn wanted to die, because Niall was shirtless, wearing only the bottom part of the tightest piece of clothing ever. He was centimeters away, his skin damp and slightly pink from a blush, and Zayn wanted to die.  
"Turn around." Niall said, motioning with his fingers. "I'll do you." 

_Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck_. 

Zayn obligingly did as Niall said, managing to stay still as his boyfriend put his cold fingers against Zayn's neck and unzipped his wetsuit down to his waist. Zayn shivered as the chilly air hit him, and Niall helped unstick the wetsuit from the front of his chest, peeling it over his arms. So now they're both shirtless. Fantastic. Niall put his hands on Zayn's hips and turned him around, smiling gently. His hands moved up to cup Zayn's cheeks, wiping sand from his face. He leaned up on his toes and bumped his nose against Zayn's.  
"Thank you for trusting me." Niall whispered, then pressing his lips directly to Zayn's mouth. 

_Oh fuck it all_. 

 

Zayn moved them backwards as a unit, kissing Niall hungrily, like he was the air and Zayn had been drowning. Funnily enough, it felt like he had been. Niall's back hit the side wall of the hut and he jolted, gasping against Zayn's lips. Zayn bit down on his bottom lip, more forcefully than he normally would, because fuck, he wanted Niall and he wanted him now. Zayn was so cold, but so warm at the same time, and Niall's mouth was driving him insane, and these wetsuits are bloody torture. Zayn ran a hand through Niall's hair, gripping it loosely and tipping his head back. He attached his mouth to Niall's neck, his cold skin against Zayn's lips making him start.  
"Zayn-" Niall huffed out. "Jesus, Zayn, you're driving me mad with this neck kissing-"  
"I'll go lower then." Zayn breathed against his neck, dipping his head and pressing them to the hollow of Niall's throat. Niall let out a downright whimper as their bare chests brushed together, grasping uselessly at the hanging arms of his wetsuit. Zayn continued with his descent lower, kissing Niall's sternum and then his flat stomach. Niall choked as he went down, kneeling on the sandy ground beneath them. 

Zayn rested his head against Niall's hip, breathing heavily. Niall put one hand on his back and the other on his chin, raising his head. Zayn grinned up at him cheekily, taking in his wide, blown out eyes and flushed cheeks. With a flicker of pride, he realized that he'd made Niall look like that. Reaching up, Zayn snapped the fabric of Niall's wetsuit against his suit teasingly, pressing a kiss to his hipbone and beginning to work a bruise against it. Gulping hard, Niall opened his mouth, trying to find words.  
"Zayn- do you- D'ya think this is a good idea?" Niall stammered, putting a hand on Zayn's head and clumsily combing through his hair. And personally, Zayn thought that giving Niall his first ever blowjob right here was a _great_ idea. Contrary to a lot of people, Zayn actually liked giving head more than getting it. Seeing other people receive pleasure was a major turn-on for him, and knowing that he'd been the one to make them feel like that was even better. And considering that Niall had never experienced anything like that, Zayn was nearly too turned on to even contemplate it. So Zayn nodded eagerly, just preparing to tug the rest of Niall's wetsuit down, when Niall's hands covered his.  
"Zayn, do you remember our conversation on Valentine's Day- when I said I was ready and you convinced me that I wasn't?" Niall mumbled. "You were right then, and you're still right now." 

And instantly, Zayn sat back on his heels, removing his hands from Niall's waist. He came bbck to reality with a thump, chewing on the inside of his cheek. An apology was already beginning to tumble from his lips, because fucking hell, what the fuck had he almost done? But then, Niall's gentle fingers were at his lips, holding the words back.  
"No, no, don't be sorry." Niall whispered. "You have no reason to be sorry, I encouraged this, I jammed my own zipper to get you in here with me, I thought I wanted to be intimate, I _did_ want it, but-"  
"I came on too strong." Zayn finished for him, feeling his heart sink, but Niall hurriedly shook his head.  
"No, that's not it either. I thought I was ready for this, but this-" Niall said, twirling his hand around to encompass everything around them. "Also entails you seeing certain things that I'm definitely not ready for you to see. Technically, you already have seen them, but- I'm not ready for you to see my- my scars willingly, in a position like this." 

Zayn felt equal parts understanding and relief ebb over him. Because yeah, yeah, he could definitely see where Niall was coming from. He hadn't even thought about that, and who knows what his reaction would've been? It might've been ever worse than his first one, which luckily, Niall was unconscious for. So Zayn gave a weak smile, taking the hand Niall offered to him and standing up. Niall leaned in, giving him a sweet kiss this time, his way of saying that everything was okay. They broke apart and Niall gave Zayn an impish smile, a dimple appearing in the corner of his cheek.  
"Now, go." he teased. "I'm indecent, you peeping Tom."  
"Listen, I'm not the one who purposefully jammed the zipper of my own wetsuit." Zayn said, raising his hands up in mock defeat. "But yes, I will go. But don't take forever changing, Horan. My balls are fucking blue."  
Niall laughed and Zayn walked out, fighting a grin of his own. He spotted Liam sitting on top of a rock, his mobile phone clutched against his ear. Zayn was gonna leave him be and let him talk to Sophia in peace, but Liam eagerly waved him over, so Zayn went and sat beside him, pressing his cold body against Liam's warm one as he jabbered away to his girlfriend. 

Eventually, Niall came back out, looking somewhat put together. So, seeing that he was no worse for wear, Zayn hurried into the changing room, yanking his wetsuit off and tugging his clothes back on. He'd never been happier to wear his favorite tank top and jeans before. Once dressed, he walked back out, seeing that Liam was off the phone, and Louis and Harry had returned. Zayn walked over, bracing himself to listen to whatever had happened between them. Due to the silence of the group, he assumed it was nothing good.  
"Hi guys." Zayn said, trying to hide his unease. "We're ready to leave, I guess?"  
"Yeah." Louis muttered, keeping his eyes to his feet. He refused to look at Zayn, which was weird. Even at his worst, Louis faced things head on.  
"I'm starving." Harry supplied, his tone funny. "Let's get dinner somewhere, yeah?"  
He didn't look at Zayn either, but that was alright. Zayn wasn't stupid: he could put two and two together and figured out what occured. Besides, he was close enough that he could see some of both boys' features, and that was all he needed to know. 

Both Louis and Harry's eyes were swollen red from crying, and their lips were swollen red from kissing, and nobody said a thing about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I should've done:  
> 1\. Finished AP work  
> 2\. Begun to fill out college applications  
> 3\. Gone to bed early tonight for an audition to sing for the Pope tomorrow (!!!!) 
> 
> Things I did:  
> 1\. Wrote and posted this 
> 
> Was it worth it? Wanna tell me in the comments? XD 
> 
> You're all stars :3


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 20 is here!!!!! Enjoy! Sorry it took ages, life is hectic, and school starts in two days!!!! I'm so screwed XD

"Zaynie." 

" _Mmpphh_." 

"Petal, wanna wake up now?" 

"Nooooo." 

 

The first thing that Zayn heard on Day Three of their Irish vacation was Niall's soft chuckles, muted in the hush of the hotel room. Gently, Niall's cold fingers scrabbled at Zayn's stubbly chin, tickling him. Squirming away from the sensation, Zayn blinked awake, pressing his face into the pillow beneath his head. Niall's hands moved down to grasp Zayn's shoulders, rolling him over onto his back. 

"Zayn." Niall whispered cajolingly, leaning in closer to the boy lying on the camp bed. "Zayn, Zayn, Zayn." 

"Niall Niall Niall." Zayn sing-songed back, finally opening his eyes fully and taking in his boyfriend. Niall was standing above him, already fully dressed in snug baby blue jeans and a red polo. His hair was wet, the fringe sticking flat to his head, so Zayn assumed he was recently out of the shower. His skin was pale, but that might've been from the lack of sunlight coming in from the window. Zayn glanced over at the curtains and saw that no weak light was shining through, so either it was super cloudy in Mullingar today, or-

"Jesus, Niall, it's 5:00 AM." Zayn groaned as he grabbed his phone to check the time, wincing at the bright light from the screen. Niall rubbed his thumbs across the bones of Zayn's shoulders, looking apologetic. 

"I know, and I'm sorry." Niall said with a slight frown. "I've been up since four, just puttering around the room, trying to be quiet. But there's something I need to go do, before today's activities happen, and I just got lonely....If you wanna go back to sleep, I understand, but-" 

"Of course not." Zayn said softly. "Not if my boy's lonely. C'mere." 

 

Zayn sat up in his bed, wrapping a sleep-heavy arm around Niall's waist. With a gentle tug, Niall came forward, landing on Zayn's waiting lap. He giggled softly, resting his damp head on Zayn's chest. He shivered from the chill, but found that he didn't care all too much. Niall picked up Zayn's spare hand and idly played with his fingers, then holding it and interlocking them with his own. Turning his head to the right, Zayn shoved his face into Niall's wet hair, breathing in deeply. And as always, he smelled apples: bright green apples that only grow at the height of autumn. And suddenly, a question was on his lips, and he was amazed he hadn't asked it yet. 

"What shampoo do you use?" Zayn asked quietly, his voice muffled. "Like what brand?" 

"Suave." Niall replied with another breathy giggle. "Juicy Green Apple. Why?" 

"It drives me fucking insane." Zayn said, beginning to press soft kisses behind Niall's left ear, right where a few blonde locks were curled. "Has since the moment I met you." 

"Really?" Niall said with interest, angling his head more to give Zayn better acsess. "I didn't know that. I've used the same shampoo since I was fourteen, and only started using that particular brand because Blink-182 has a song called _Apple Shampoo_ and I was going through my Blink phase at the time. Then I guess I sorta got attached." 

"I've never heard that song." Zayn mumbled, grazing his teeth along Niall's earlobe and making him shiver. "But thank fuck for it." 

Niall paused, biting his lower lip shyly. Zayn held his breath, because both of them knew what Zayn had sorta just asked. It'd been far too long since Zayn heard Niall's voice, at least in his opinion. 

"Please?" Zayn implored, bumping his nose against the softness of Niall's cheekbone. "You did wake me up before the sun rose, you know. And I'm the opposite of a morning person, so...I could use a little serenading." 

"Birds are chirping outside, despite the hour." Niall murmured into Zayn's chest, nodding his head towards the window. "They can serenade you better than I can." 

"No one has a better voice than you, little songbird." Zayn whispered into Niall's ear, feeling his skin radiate with a heated blush. Niall bit his lip again, in delight this time, looking embarrassed but pleased. His cheeks were such a lovely pinkish color, that Zayn just had to press his lips to them, whispering soft words of encouragement. Eventually, Niall deflated, putting a chilled hand on Zayn's chest. 

"Fine." he said, flushing a shade darker as Zayn's eyes flicked up to meet his. "I'll sing a little, like a verse or two, and quietly, so I don't wake the others." 

"Again, it's five in the morning. You won't." Zayn replied with a wry grin, avoiding Niall's gentle swat at him. Niall softly cleared his throat, bowing his head to look at his knees. He avoided Zayn's gaze, toying with the inseam of his jeans. He tilted his head to the side, as if he was considering which part of the song to sing, and then opened his mouth. 

 

" _Where are you coming from? What are you running from? Is it so hard to see_?" he sang, his voice a half whisper. Zayn shut his eyes, letting the words wash over him. He imagined it'd sound vastly different with instruments, given that Blink-182 are a punk band, but to Zayn, anything with Niall's vocals sounded perfect. Even quiet, it was beautiful: raspy with sleep and accented and flowing like the sea. 

 

" _And if you're feeling scared, remember the time we shared_." Niall continued, leaning in and hooking his chin on Zayn's shoulder. Their cheeks were pressed together, Niall's soft lips right by Zayn's ear. He shivered marginally, wanting to turn his head and kiss his boyfriend, but also not wanting to stop his singing. " _You know that it meant everything. You know that it meant everything to me_." 

 

 _God, you mean everything to me, Niall Horan_. Zayn thought to himself. 

 

No sooner had Niall's mouth closed from his singing than Zayn's was pressed right against it, coaxing his lips open with his tongue. He sucked on Niall's lower lip gently, tilting them backwards until Niall's back was pressed against the camp bed, Zayn's hands braced around either side of his head as he leaned down to kiss him. Cupping Niall's cheek, he grazed his thumb across Niall's cheek, connecting the dots that were his freckles. Niall hummed into his mouth enthusiastically, sliding his right leg in between Zayn's two and tugging him closer. 

"Everytime we kiss- I feel- I feel-" Niall mumbled against Zayn's skin, peppering kisses along his jawline. "I somehow feel like it's still the first time. I get just as jittery." 

"Thank you for singing for me." Zayn breathed, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of Niall's nose. "Little songbird." 

 

Niall flushed bright red again, even the tips of his ears heating up with it. Zayn grinned crookedly, knowing that that certain pet name was one he'd be using very frequently from now on. Maybe every minute, if it made Niall blush like that. Zayn grazed his fingers along Niall's slick lips, smiling faintly. 

"You did wake me up for a reason though." Zayn said gently running his fingers through Niall's wet fringe, wringing some of the water out of it. "What's up, babe?" 

"There's somewhere I need to go, before everyone else wakes up." Niall said, fidgeting as his eyes flicked downwards, avoiding Zayn's gaze. "And I just- I don't wanna go alone, so will you maybe come with me?" 

"Yeah, of course." Zayn said compliantly. "Just let me get dressed and-" 

"You don't need to." Niall said hurriedly. "We're not going anywhere inside or anything, just down the street and around the corner. Just throw on a bathrobe or something." 

"Right." Zayn said, patting Niall's legs and sliding him off his lap. Standing up out of bed, Zayn raised his arms over his head, stretching until his heard his muscles pop. He groaned lowly, feeling the joints of his shoulders creak. Niall joined him in standing, reaching over to his open suitcase and pawing around the clothes strewn inside it. He pulled out a raggedy blue bathrobe, offering it to Zayn with a blush. 

"I figured you wouldn't pack one." he said hurriedly, his cheeks growing pinker with every word. "So I brought my spare one with me. It's not pretty, but it does the job, like its warm, you know? I would give you my actual robe, but it needs a wash, so-" 

"Oh _fuck_ yes." Zayn said ecstatically, nearly tripping over his feet in his haste to plunge his arms into the waiting clothing. A secret of Zayn's (one he'll never, ever admit aloud) is that he longed to wear a piece of Niall's clothing. He knew that was highly unrealistic, because they were obviously different sizes in basically every item. But...it'd just be like having a piece of him, and Zayn was kinda a sucker for the whole _wear your boyfriend's hoodie_ trope, but a bathrobe would certainly do. 

 

Niall chuckled as he helped lift the robe onto Zayn's shoulders, Zayn turning on his heels and tying the belt, his fingers fumbling. Zayn tugged the collar up to his nose, breathing in deeply. The material was so soft, the blue cotton faded from countless washes, ironings, and loving hands. The sleeves were worn, a couple threads fraying at the cuffs, the left pocket had a hole in it, and it was way too short for Zayn, ending at his knees.

 

Basically, it was perfect. Because it was so _Niall_. 

 

"Jesus, it's like a hug." Zayn half groaned, nosing his face further into the collar. It smelled like washer detergent and apples, probably from being around Niall's hair. "A warm embrace after a long day." 

"I'm glad you like it." Niall said happily, a pleased smile flickering across his lips. "It was in my Christmas stocking when I was thirteen. Look at the left cuff." 

Turning his left arm over, Zayn looked down, studying the faded material, rolled up at his wrist. Against the blue fabric, stitched in bright yellow thread, were the words " _Merry Christmas, Niall_ ," with a little loopy star right next to it. Zayn felt his heart pound harder as the meaning behind those words clicked. Even though Niall was fairly innocent, there was no way he believed in Santa at thirteen. And besides, those threaded words were far too neat to be done by anyone else's hand but a woman's. 

 

Niall's mother had made this. And Niall was letting Zayn wear it. 

 

"Niall." Zayn said weakly, trying to take the bathrobe off his body. His hands were suddenly extremely gentle, as if he'd rip the material by just touching it. He fumbled to undo the belt, his fingers trembling. "Niall, I can't wear this, please take it back-" 

"No." Niall said, shaking his head quickly. "I want you to. It hasn't- I haven't...No one' s worn it in a year, and I want you to." 

Niall smiled weakly as Zayn's hands reluctantly dropped down to his sides. His empty grip was soon filled with both of Niall's hands, Niall rubbing his thumbs across Zayn's palms and squeezing his hands in a gentle grip. He fiddled with one of the fraying threads, wrapping it around his finger and tugging it away. 

"It deserves some attention." Niall said softly, his warm breath blowing across Zayn's cheeks. "It's spent too long in the back of my cupboard. Besides, you look too hot to take it off you." 

Zayn flushed hotly, biting on his lower lip and staring at his feet in embarrassment. Niall chuckled lowly, turning on his heels and keeping Zayn's left hand wrapped up in his right. 

"Let's go, I wanna be back before the sun comes up." Niall said as they left the room, and Zayn just shook his head, because he thought that the sun had been up for hours, pacing the room and waiting to wake the moon. 

 

 

The couple left the bed and breakfast quietly, trying to make as little noise as possible. Niall opened the faded red door and stepped aside, holding it for Zayn to come through. Zayn walked out into the chilly morning air, seeing his breath billow out in front of him. The cold ground was leeching into his slippered feet (the slippers were also Niall's: bright green and two sizes too small. Zayn adored them). Niall walked out of the building and closed the door tightly behind him. He turned to Zayn, fighting a smile at his appearance. Zayn felt his cheeks redden again as Niall stepped forward and linked their hands, beginning to walk wherever they were going. 

"Where are we going?" Zayn asked as they move, wrapping an arm around his torso and shivering. Despite the coming spring, it was still cold in Ireland. Even though the sun wasn't out, Zayn could see that the clouds were low in the sky, the entire world looking heavy beneath them. The boys strode forward, their legs falling into step on the cracked sidewalk. Looking above him, Zayn saw that the streelamps were still light, and he wondered if he'd ever been up this early in his entire life. 

"I need to do something." Niall said, repeating his words from earlier. "There's this field around the corner...just trust me, yeah? I'm not gonna murder you, I promise. 

"Okay." Zayn said with a laugh, dipping his head down to press a quick kiss to Niall's cheek. He felt Niall's cheekbone curve into a smile against his lips, and Zayn smiled too. "I'll hold you to that one." 

 

They walked side by side through the streets of Mullingar for the next ten minutes, their shoulders barely brushing as they moved. Niall kept his eyes firmly focused on the path in front of him, his right cheek shucked between his teeth. Eyes glancing around, Niall looked left and then turned suddenly, pulling Zayn along with him. They crossed a street, ending up at a stone wall. It was low, only reaching up to their waists, gray stone stacked on top of gray stone. But past the wall, Zayn could see an entire field of flowers. Sunflowers. 

 

And he thought he figured out why they were here. 

 

Niall walked over to the wall and swung one leg over it, sitting on the side and then clambering over. Zayn did the same, feeling foolish because he was, quite literally, straddling a wall in a bathrobe and slippers. He then joined Niall, interlocking their hands again. They were standing in the middle of the flowers, both of them being careful to crush none. To the east of them, the sun was rising. It crept up over the hill, waving a few weak rays at them, like an old friend. A single beam shone on Niall, making his hair look like spun gold. Zayn took a deep breath at the sight, feeling the earthy air fill his lungs. Everything smelled fresh, calmingly so. It smelled like peat and wet earth and things growing. 

 

Niall looked down at his feet, gazing at the sunflowers littering around their ankles. They were quite short, the highest one brushing the boys' knees. They clearly hadn't been growing long, and Zayn figured they'd been planted in the autumn, and then left to come up naturally in the spring. It was truly beautiful: flowers swaying in the slight breeze, dancing to the music of crickets. 

"My school planted these flowers in September." Niall said quietly, reaching his free hand down to gently brush his fingertips against the petals of a sunflower. "For my mum."

 

Zayn's eyes automatically fixated to Niall's face, making sure he was okay. He wasn't looking at him, keeping his own gaze on the flowers. But from what Zayn could see, Niall seemed alright. His skin was pale, and he was frowning slightly, but he definitely wasn't falling to pieces. So Zayn kept his hands to himself, and kept his mouth shut, letting his boyfriend say what he needed to. 

"It was after my dad and I made the decision to move, and I guess...I guess they just wanted to do something before we left. My family has always lived here, in Mullingar, and everyone knew we'd never be coming back, at least not to make our lives in this town. So, my teachers and classmates and everyone decided to plant these flowers, in memory of my mum- and of me and my dad, I suppose- because, every spring, they come back." 

"That's- that's beautiful, Niall." Zayn whispered, trying not to startle him. Niall looked at him then, the faintest of smiles on his lips, and then he nodded, the corners of his eyes wet. 

"Yeah, yeah it really is." he replied. "And I figured...if we're going to see her grave today, I can at least bring her favourite flowers, and especially ones that were planted in her name." 

 

Here, Niall looked down, and he held out his empty hand, the one not clutching Zayn's. Zayn could see it trembling from where he stood, and Niall laughed foolishly, shaking his head. 

"And now we're here, and I can't stop my hands from shaking, and I can't pick flowers like that-" 

"I'll help." Zayn said automatically, reaching over and taking Niall's other hand. He gave him a reassuring smile, rubbing his thumb over Nial's bony knuckles. "Just tell me how many you want, and I'll help you pick them." 

 

Niall gave a shaky smile, and the boys knelt down into the earth. A rough stick dug into Zayn's kneecap, and he felt it scrape his skin, a few warm drops of blood springing up, but he ignored it. Zayn reached over to the first sunflower, putting his fingers at the base of the stem. He took Niall's hand and put it there too, making sure they were doing it together. Tugging upward, they picked the sunflower from the earth, Niall holding it in his left hand. 

 

Slowly, they gathered a bunch of flowers, until Niall had a thick bouquet, around twenty flowers in all. He rested them in the crook of his elbow, putting his nose into one and inhaling. Zayn smiled as he watched him, feeling fondness fill his chest. His hair was the exact yellow color of the sunflowers in his arms. 

"Are sunflowers your favourites too, Ni?" Zayn asked, feeling sure the answer was yes. But to his surprise, Niall shook his head. He peeked his head up from behind the flowers, his eyes shining bright blue, matching the morning sky that was rapidly appearing above them. (Were they actually going to get a sunny day today?) Niall bit his lip, shaking his head again. 

"No, not sunflowers. I'm pretty sure you can figure out which ones are, though." 

"It's still only 6:00 AM, don't expect me to be at all intelligent." Zayn dead panned and Niall chuckled, pushing his face into the flowers again. 

"They're roses." Niall said, his voice muffled. "Pink roses." 

 

At Niall's words, Zayn was catapulted back into his memories. He remembered wearing a suit, feeling so nervous that he thought he was gonna die, and clutching a bouquet of roses so tightly that the thorns made his palms bleed. In the present, Zayn felt a giddy smile spread across his cheeks, and Niall glanced at him again, beaming too. 

"Oh, I see." Zayn said dumbly, the words fumbling in his mouth. "Because I bought you them? The day we started dating?" 

"No, I just really like the way they smell." Niall said brightly, and Zayn's mouth fell open. At his face, Niall burst into giggles, shaking his head. 

"Yes, you idiot." he said affectionately. "It's because you bought me them. I had never been given flowers before, and I didn't think I ever would be. It was a huge deal to me." 

"Aww Niall." Zayn cooed. "Did you press one in a book and dry it to keep?" 

 

At Niall's sudden silence, it was Zayn's turn to laugh. Face flushing, Niall looked at him again, still smiling. Looking down, he reached into the bundle of sunflowers and withdrew one. Reaching over to Zayn, he gently pushed his hair to the side and tucked the sunflower behind his ear. Zayn blinked at the touch, pushing his cheek into Niall's hand. 

"There." Niall said softly. "Now I've given you a flower too." 

Their eyes met and Zayn froze, feeling his breath catch in his throat. Niall's eyes were impossibly gentle as he looked at him, wide and earnest. His hand still lingered by Zayn's cheek, his thumb caught on Zayn's lip. Zayn felt a strong pounding in his chest, even stronger than his normal elevated pulse when around Niall. There was a strange buzzing in his ears and a thrumming in his blood that he didn't understand. He couldn't breathe, and he felt nearly overcome, and he wasn't sure why a flower and a hand pressed to his skin made him feel this way. 

"Do I look like you?" he said croakily, finding his voice at last. "With the hair and stuff?" 

"No, you still look like yourself." Niall whispered. "Still beautiful, petal." 

Zayn swallowed, feeling his throat close over. His heart was pounding more than ever, and his hands were shaking uncontrollably by his sides, and what the fuck was going on? Finally, Niall looked away, smiling bashfully. He cleared his throat and glanced at the sky, narrowing his eyes at the ever brightening light. 

"We should probably get back, the others will wake up soon." 

Zayn nodded mutely, losing his words again, and Niall turned, beginning to trudge back through the field. Zayn followed him, clinging onto him tightly. He figured that if he moved away from Niall, what he was currently feeling would stop, and what amazed Zayn most was that he didn't want it to. He wanted to figure it out first. 

 

Back in the bed and breakfast, the other three boys were all awake, getting ready for the day. Louis was in the shower, even though he'd spent nearly an hour in there last night, scrubbing away all the sand from the beach. Liam and Harry were sitting on one of the beds, already dressed. Liam was reading a book, resting it on his inclined knees, and Harry had earbuds in, bobbing his head to music that only he could hear. Zayn focused on Harry in particular, wondering how he was managing this morning. He'd been extremely quiet last night, joining in on none of their banter at dinner and in the room before they went to bed. And the reason was obvious. His silence was all due to Louis, and Zayn was hoping that at some point today, there'd be a moment where he could talk to one of them about what happened yesterday. Were they back together? What had their kissing meant? What did they talk about? Did they even talk at all?

 

But honestly, Zayn doubted they even knew the answers to his questions. 

 

Louis came out of the shower, fully dressed and smelling like he'd doused himself in an entire bottle of cologne. He gave Niall and Louis a wave and a smile, tossing his towels in the hamper. Looking around, Zayn saw that all his friends looked nervous. They probably realized what was coming today, could understand why Niall was holding flowers, and had no clue how it was gonna go. Zayn was just about to say something, trying to diffuse the palpable tension, when Niall spoke first. 

"I'm sure you guys know where we're going now." he said quietly. "And I just want to say thank you for coming with me this far. Thank you for not writing me off as a friend, that night I told you all, way later that I should've. Thank you for being my friends in the first place. You don't have to come with me to the cemetery, if you don't want to. I understand that it can affect some people in bad ways, and I'll probably be a wreck, so if you don't wanna see me like that or- or see my mum's grave, I understand-" 

"We're coming with you." Harry cut in quickly, his voice low. It was the first time Zayn had heard him speak in twelve hours. "What kind of shit friends would we be, if we didn't?" 

"Harry's right." Louis said, quiet but determined. "You'll probably need us, and we're not gonna leave you now." 

"Or ever." Liam finished, and Zayn could suddenly feel the tears flowing down his cheeks, and he could heard everyone chuckling at him. But if he looked around, he saw that everyone else was teary-eyed too, and that made it okay.

 

Everyone left the room then, giving Zayn time to throw on some clothes. After he got dressed, he pulled the sunflower out from behind his ear, looking at it with a funny smile on his face. He then glanced around the room, wondering if there was a vase or even a water bottle to put it into. Unfortunately, no such thing was found. But he did see Liam's book lying on the bed. 

"Sorry, Payno." he whispered, picking up the book and putting the sunflower in the back, gingerly closing the covers around it and making sure that no petals fell off. "But I've never been given flowers before either, and I never thought I would be. It's a huge deal to me too." 

 

The walk to Mullingar's cemetery was silent. 

 

The five boys trudged forward with no words passed between them. Niall stood in the centre of them all, the bright sunflowers clutched in his arms. They practically formed a protective ring around the boy, as if they could protect him from the pain of this experience with their bodies. Zayn was walking behind Niall, and every so often, he'd reach forward and gently brush his fingers against his elbow, offering his support in any way he could. 

 

As if to purposefully make the situation ironic, the sun was shining today. It beat down on the town, and Zayn felt himself grow uncomfortably warm underneath his jacket, sweat pooling at his neck. Probably because of the nice weather, the streets of Mullingar were bustling, everyone suddenly jovial. Voices rung back and forth across the streets as people recognized one another, musical Irish accents making a beautiful symphony. But none of them could enjoy it, because they were under a cloud of their own, a cloud of grief. 

 

All too soon, they'd reached the wrought-iron gates of Mullinar Cemetery. Thankfully, this gate was unlocked, so Zayn wouldn't have to go scurrying over it. With a hand that only Zayn knew would be shaking, Niall reached for the handle, wrapping his fingers around it and slowly pulling the gate open. They filed in one by one, Niall still in the middle. He managed to lead the way though, silently pointing out the directions towards his mother's grave. 

 

Despite the gravity of the moment, Zayn couldn't help but take in how beautiful the grounds around them were. Naturally, everything was a vivid green, made even greener by the sunlight shining on it. Time-worn gravestones were in straight rows, etched words half faded away on them. Some had flowers in front of them, the grass around the stone neatly taken care of. But some were not marked by any beauty at all, nearly overgrown with botany. Zayn almost tripped over a tiny gravestone, and felt weighty sadness and guilt fill him from head to toe. He hoped no one he loved would ever be forgotten. 

"Zayn." Louis mumbled in Zayn's right ear as they continued to walk, keeping his head angled away from Niall so he wouldn't hear him. "D'ya think we should let Niall go to his mum's grave alone first? Just to give him some time by himself there, and then we'll join him? I know he wants us there, but I think he deserves the privacy-" 

"Yeah." Zayn said with a swift nod. "Yeah, I'll suggest it." 

 

Reaching forward, Zayn put a hand on Niall's shoulder, slowing him to a halt. Harry, Louis, and Liam all stopped too, none of them looking surprised. They'd probably talked about this while Zayn and Niall were getting the flowers. Niall, however, looked at Zayn with a furrow in his brow. He seemed confused as to why he'd been stopped, which Zayn could understand. If he was in Niall's position, he'd just want to get there too. Zayn gave him a faint smile, trying to look reassuring. 

"Hey, Niall." he said quietly. "I think me and the guys should just wait here, and let you go on by yourself, just for a little while. Whenever you're ready, come back and get us, and then we'll all spend some time there too-" 

"Don't leave me." Niall burst out hurriedly, his eyes widening with panic. "I get what you're saying, I do, and I agree that maybe all five of us shouldn't go at once, but you....Zayn, you can't leave me. Please, _please_ don't leave me-" 

 

In the sight of Niall's panic, Zayn blinked a few times, feeling his face go slack-jawed. He nodded slowly, seeing through his peripheral vision that the other boys had silently slipped away, leaving Niall and Zayn alone. Niall gulped loudly, fear on his every feature. He looked at Zayn steadily, his cheeks ashen. 

"I can't do this without you." he whispered hoarsely. “Don’t make me do it without you.”

“I’m not gonna.” Zayn breathed back, his tongue heavy in his mouth. “I couldn’t do that.” 

Niall nodded, looking slightly calmer. He took a deep breath, glancing over to their left. A thicket of trees were over there, their leaves still slick from last night’s rain. Niall looked back at Zayn then, and his expression made Zayn want to ram himself into the nearest tree trunk. 

 

Standing there, Zayn thought back to all the times he’d seen Niall Horan sad: every single moment, from where he’d had the slightest trace of a frown to full out sobbing. He thought about all the times Niall would mention his mum and suddenly stop smiling, before anyone knew his secret. Or the day in the art room, the first time Zayn saw him cry. The New Year’s Eve Party, where Zayn didn’t kiss him and Niall experienced his first taste of heartbreak (Zayn had vowed that he’d never make him feel another). The day that would forever be branded in Zayn’s memory, March 3rd, the day he found out everything. 

 

But none of those awful moments compared to the pain on Niall’s face as they stood in the middle of the cemetery and he said the words, 

“My mum’s grave is under the willow tree.”

 

Zayn followed Niall as he turned on his heels and walked over to the willow, gently pulling the delicate limbs of the tree aside. They stepped underneath its branches, being enveloped into a canopy of green foliage. Zayn kept his distance as Niall stepped forward, his back brushing the hanging branch. He kept his eyes fixed on his feet, not knowing if he should look or not. But then Niall’s hand was in his, guiding him forward. Niall put his face against Zayn’s neck as they stood side by side, and Zayn could feel him shaking. 

“Look with me.” he said pleadingly, and Zayn’s skin was now damp from Niall’s tears. “Don’t leave me alone now.”

 

So Zayn took a deep breath, and looked up with Niall. 

 

_Maura Horan:_

_Even as the sun goes down,_

_To end the light of day,_

_It’s rising in a new horizon,_

_Somewhere far away._

 

The epitaph, so beautiful, so loving, so sad, was carved expertly into the cool white marble of the headstone. Zayn felt a rush of tears burn his eyes as he looked at it, blurring the words of stone. He blinked rapidly, trying to hold them in, because he didn’t want Niall to see him that way, at least not yet. Looking around, Zayn saw the neatly packaged earth on the gravesite. A few shoots of grass had sprung up in the dirt, but not enough to cover it completely. The plot of earth was framed by stones, arranged in a square around the entire grave. It was too perfectly organized to be an accident of nature. Someone had put them there, those rocks from the nearest local beach, and Zayn knew that that someone was the boy holding his hand. 

 

Beside him, Niall gave a little gasp, pressing his mouth together tightly to try and stifle it. Silent tears were steadily crawling down his cheeks, but it looked like he didn’t even notice them. He just stood there for a few long moments, gulping back air. But then he was moving forward, letting go of Zayn and kneeling down in the grass. Niall put the sunflowers on the earth, leaning them on the grave to make sure they didn’t topple over. He then tenderly pressed his fingertips to his mother’s name, and Zayn saw his lips form the words silently. 

“Hi, Mum.” Niall croaked at last, his voice wavering. “Sorry it’s been so long, but I’m- I’m here now.”

 

 _But you’re not_. Zayn finished for him, feeling his tears finally spill over. He passed a hand over his face, trying to wipe them away. But all too soon, more had taken their place. Niall bowed his head, his shoulders shaking as he wept. Now both of his hands were pressed against Maura’s headstone, framing her name like he could imprint it on his skin, if only he pressed hard enough. Niall sniffed deeply, trying to regain some semblance of control of himself. 

“Oh God, you’ve been all by yourself.” he gasped out, his tone edged with hysteria. Zayn wondered if Niall would have a panic attack, and what he’d do if he did. Would he have to remove him from this location? Because Zayn really didn’t think that was a good idea. 

 

“I left you all alone.” Niall continued, beginning to cry even harder. It was killing Zayn to hear the agony in his voice, to not comfort him until it went away. But he couldn’t intervene. “For months, nobody visited, nobody left flowers here, the only covering you got was snow, oh _God_. I could’ve stayed, I should’ve stayed. I understand why Dad had to go, you were the love of his life, but-but I coulda stayed with Siobhan, stayed with _you_." 

 

"But instead, I moved to England. I moved and tried to forget everything that happened, to forget the worst time in my life. I made friends, I smiled, I laughed, and I started to sing again. I sung, even though you were dead, Mum, because I was happy. I shouldn't have left, shouldn't have been happy...I'm sorry, oh Mum, Mum, I’m so sorry, Mum-”

 

Niall’s voice suddenly broke off and he tilted his head to the sky, pressing a hand to his mouth as he began to keen, a high-pitched whine in his throat. Zayn fidgeted where he stood, the urge to run over to Niall and envelop him in his arms nearly overwhelming him. As if sensing his agitation, Niall glanced backward, his face contorted in anguish. But he limply extended a trembling hand to Zayn, opening his mouth to speak. 

“Zayn-” he said, swallowing thickly. "Please- please hold me together, Zayn-"

 

Niall had barely finished speaking before Zayn was kneeling down beside him. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, gingerly pulling him into his chest. Niall buried his face into the material of Zayn's shirt, his entire body rocking with his despair. Zayn rested his cheek in Niall's hair, wracking his brains to figure what to say, how to soothe him. Trying to hold Niall together with everything-and anything- he had. 

"I left her." Niall groaned out, screwing his eyes shut. 

"No, you didn't." Zayn whispered softly, finding his voice. "Niall, she was already gone. You left because you had to, because you and your father would be miserable if you didn't." 

"But- nobody's been here. I didn't want her grave to be an abandoned one..." 

"You're here now, aren't you?" Zayn crooned, pushing Niall's hair away from his forehead and wiping his wet eyes with the pad of his thumb. "She's remembered because you live on. Your mother's spirit is around whenever you smile, or laugh, or sing, or do anything at all, really. In you, there's a piece of her that will never go away, a light that will never fade." 

Zayn paused, deeply considering his next words. He knew what he wanted to say, but he didn't know if he really could right now, because it might set Niall off again. But in the end, he figured that it was something Niall needed to hear, to assuage this terrible guilt he felt, and Zayn needed to make that happen.

"And Niall," Zayn whispered in his ear, pressing a soft kiss to his skin. "If you stayed here, if you kept beating yourself up about this, you might've ended up in a grave too. And it wouldn't have been from a car accident. It wouldn't have been an accident at all." 

 

Niall's breath caught in his throat, and he went still, bowing his forehead on Zayn's shoulder. He shuddered a few times, taking shallow breaths, and Zayn put his hands on Niall's back, rubbing them up and down, feeling him inhale and exhale. They just said there for a few minutes, Niall still silently crying. But thankfully, he seemed to be calming down, coming back to himself. Eventually Niall whispered something, but it was unintelligible, so Zayn lowered his head, inclining his ear closer. 

"What is it, little songbird?" Zayn breathed, and Niall pulled his head back, his gaze calmer. 

"She's really gone." he said, his eyes swollen red. It wasn't a question: just a mere statement. "She really, really is." 

 

And all Zayn could do was nod. Niall bit his lip and looked back at the gravestone, nodding his head almost frantically. He wiped at his sore eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling. 

"You're gone." he said firmly, his voice sounding stronger. "You're gone and you're not coming back and it's nobody's fault. Not mine, not Dad's, not your's. And we're not guilty for leaving, just like you aren't for dying. And it's okay that I've been happy, because that's what you'd want for me." 

 

Here, Niall's lips trembled and he folded them over each other. He pulled back from Zayn and ran a hand through his hair, wrapping the blonde strands around his fingers. He looked at his boyfriend once more and his eyes softened, the tear stains on his blotchy cheeks drying. 

"Mum, you would want me to be happy because you loved me." he said softly, reaching out a hand to rest it against the gravestone again. 

"She loves you." Zayn burst out, unable to stop himself. Because this was something he truly believed, to the core of his being. Zayn wasn't very religious, and anyway, he and Niall had different religions, but this was his one truth. "Present tense, Niall. Because wherever she is, she loves you. I'm not a theologian by any stretch, but I don't- I don't think that a love like that stops when-when life does." 

 

A small smile gradually spread across Niall's cheeks, a dimple puckering in his skin. He put his other hand on Zayn's back, pulling him into his side. His fingertips were rubbing small circles into the knobs of his spine, and Niall rested his head on Zayn's shoulder, his breath warm against his collarbone. The sun was shining down on them, warming their skin, and it turned the petals of the sunflowers golden. 

"Mum." Niall said, his voice hushed. "This is Zayn. He's the reason I smile. He's the reason I laugh. He's the reason I sing." 

 

Zayn froze, unable to believe those words. Surely he wasn't the only reason for all those things, was he? But before he had anymore time to contemplate it, Niall's hands were cupping his cheeks. He leaned up and pressed their lips together softly. It was just a gentle pressure, wet from both their tears, Niall humming something that Zayn couldn't decipher into his mouth. And then, as soon as it started, it was over, Niall leaned his forehead against Zayn's and then spoke. 

"Can you go get the other boys?" he whispered, rubbing their noses together in an Eskimo kiss. "And then...maybe wait ten minutes with them, before you come back here? I think- I think I can be alone now." 

Zayn nodded and stood up, brushing off his pants. Niall stayed kneeling where he was, and Zayn reached over and put a hand on his neck, giving it a gentle squeeze and finding his pulse point. He was happy to discover that it was slow: Niall wasn't panicked at the thought of being by himself at his mother's grave. They looked at each other, both smiling somewhat forlornly, and then Zayn was gone. Leaving mother and son together, wrapped in the tender embrace of a gently swaying willow. 

 

 

A few hours and many, many tears later, the boys left the graveyard. They stood at the iron gates, each one of them hugging Niall singularly first and then joining in for a final group hug. Niall was in the middle, his body being bolstered by the other four. Louis and Harry were on either side of him, Liam in the back, and Zayn in the front, his arms wrapped around Niall's torso. Everyone's eyes were wet, and their breathing ragged, but they were all okay, because they had each other. 

 

They'd spent the last couple hours just sitting in the grass by Maura's grave. At first, nobody said much, trying to keep the solemnity of the moment. But slowly, Niall started to recount stories and details of his mother, until he was fumbling to say the words quickly enough. It was like the dam inside him had been broken, and now the floods of his memories were flowing through. He said so many things, they nearly made Zayn's head spin, but it was so necessary to feel that way. Because he didn't know if Niall would ever be that open about his mother again, so he had to try and hold onto whatever he was willing to say. 

 

"She drank her coffee black, but her tea was just like mine, with three spoonfuls of sugar. Her favourite movie was _Shakespeare in Love_ , favourite book was _The Help_ , and favourite band was Queen. She has a fondness for Lady Gaga that she'd never admit out loud. She loved Christmas, and she met my dad at a Christmas party, in which he waited under a mistletoe all night, just in case she happened by. She did, by the way." 

 

"My mum cried at everything, and I mean _everything_. Cards, songs, those ASPCA commercials with the sad puppies. But she had a fiery temper too, and would defend people she loved to the death. I was potty trained by sheer force of will and lots of impassioned yelling. She talked about my wedding someday and wondered what names I'd call my kids. Mum said there was no sound she loved more than me singing, and she would give me random hugs, if she thought I'd had a bad day. Or even if she thought I didn't." 

 

"And she wanted to teach me how to drive when I was old enough. She loved to swim, and she taught me that too. She never adapted to CD players, let alone anything from Apple, so I grew up with records in my house. We solved crossword puzzles on Saturday mornings at the kitchen table, and I was shit at them, but she was fucking amazing. Her doctor prescribed her glasses years ago, but she refused to wear them. She had her own rock collection, all those stones around her grave right now. Her laugh was like mine, she told great jokes, and we talked about everything, astronomy and music and love. She told me to not be afraid of it, to let it in, and with her....with her, I truly did." 

 

Silence. Nobody said a thing for a few painful moments. But then. 

 

"She was a truly amazing woman." Louis choked, tears in his voice. "And because of her, of what you've so kindly told us about your wonderful mother, I now understand you better. I think we all do. You are you, you are _Niall_ , our wonderful amazing brother Niall, because of her." 

 

And now, everybody was weeping, and they were piling into a group embrace in the grass, all of them trying to hold one another somehow. And Zayn wondered, for the millionth time, how four nonrelated people were the only family you ever needed. 

 

Standing outside the cemetery, Zayn also wondered what their plan for the rest of the day was. It couldn't be past noon, considering how early they'd all been up this morning. And they weren't leaving Mullingar until tomorrow morning (Zayn was bracing himself for the return ferry ride), so now they had a whole afternoon and evening to blow in Ireland. Their main goal for the trip, visiting Maura's grave, had been accomplished, and Zayn wasn't sure if Niall had any ideas left up his sleeve. And Zayn figured that a night to do absolutely nothing might be good for all five of them. 

"So, guys." Zayn said, clearing his throat as they broke out of the hug. "Do we wanna head back to the bed and breakfast now? Maybe clean and pack a bit, since the room is like a bomb hit it, and we definitely don't wanna be doing that tomorrow morning-" 

"Actually," Niall cut in, sending Zayn an apologetic look. "There was one more thing I thought we could do, before we left." 

"Yeah, of course!" Zayn amended quickly, giving Niall's hand a squeeze so he knew that Zayn wasn't upset. "Whatever you wanna do." 

"What is it, Ni?" Harry asked curiously, his voice still thick from his tears. He'd felt the emotion by Maura's grave particularly keenly, and had to be practically pried away from Niall's body when he hugged him. Harry was extremely close with his mother, Anne, so Zayn figured that he was imagining if he was in Niall's position and just couldn't bear it. At Harry's question, they all looked at Niall, waiting to see what his idea was. But Zayn was pretty sure that on that day, in that moment, they all would've jumped off a cliff for Niall Horan. 

 

"Remember by the beach, there was those two mountains?" Niall started, his voice slow. "Well, one of them is climbable. For Benbulbin, you'd need like actual hiking equipment and stuff, but Knocknarea is manageable, it's basically a glorified hill, so I thought we can make a quick trip to the top? It's really beautiful, and the view would be even better than normal, on a sunny day like today. But I get it if you don't want to, it's kinda silly..."

"Are you joking?" Louis burst out, looking incredulous. "That'd be the perfect end to this trip! Let's go climb a fucking mountain, lads!!!" 

And with that, Louis set off at a sprint, going in whatever direction he thought the mountains were in. Unfortunately, he went the complete wrong way, so Niall had to chase after him, laughing and turning him around, pointing him the right way. And all Zayn could do was stand there and shake his head, because maybe they weren't jumping off a cliff for Niall Horan, but they were certainly going up one. 

 

Knocknarea was _not_ a glorified hill. 

 

A quick Google search later on would tell Zayn that it was 327 metres tall, which did in fact, disqualify it as a mountain. However, as he climbed through undergrowth, purple heather, and way too much sheep shit, with the sun positively beating down on his back, Zayn felt like he was scaling fucking Everest. Zayn had never considered himself out of shape, he was a beanpole with no girth whatsoever, but right now, he was positively wheezing. Fucking cigarettes. (Zayn had been smoking less since he started dating Niall though. Mostly because now, whenever he had an urge for a smoke, Zayn kissed his boyfriend instead. Between nicotine and Niall's lips, he knew which one he'd rather be addicted to). 

 

Niall's lips were currently stretched into a wide smile as they walked upwards. The sleeves of his red polo were pushed up to his elbows, making the milky skin of his forearms visible, and Zayn vaguely worried that he was gonna get sunburned. This had to be the hottest day Mullingar ever had on record, it just had to be. He walked in front of all the boys, chattering about the mountain and all the times he'd climbed it before. Every so often, he'd turn around, and Zayn could see his wind blown hair and pink cheeks, brightened by the exercise of climbing. Overall, Niall seemed happier, a slight bounce in his step again, so maybe that made Zayn feeling like he was about to lose a lung worth it. 

 

Liam, Louis, and Harry were behind him, walking in a line. Every so often, Harry would stop and pick some heather, weaving it through his hair. The purple flowers looked beautiful against the chocolate shade of his curls, and Zayn smiled at the sight. Liam was just being quiet, taking in the beauty around them, but Louis more than adequately filled his silence. He belted out songs about climbing and called them adventurers and even dared Zayn to race him to the summit. 

"Nah-mate, I'm- good, thanks." Zayn gasped out, probably letting them all know that he wasn't good at all. At his words, Niall's head popped out from behind the other boys, looking worried. All of a sudden, he wasn't happy again, and Zayn could've kicked himself, because that's what this was about. And then they were all looking at him worriedly, and Zayn thought that maybe rolling back down Knocknarea might be preferable. 

 

"Do you wanna stop?" Liam asked gently, reaching for Zayn and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Nobody minds if we stop and take a break, it's super hot and you're in jeans...I should've brought water, I was going to-" 

"Oh, Liam, no." Zayn said wretchedly, now feeling even worse because Liam felt guilty. "I'm fine, we don't need to stop. It's just steep, is all." 

"You do look very pale." Harry said, joining in on critiquing Zayn's health. "You didn't eat breakfast this morning, did you?" 

"I'm fine!" Zayn insisted, but in that exact moment, his foot hit a rabbit hole and he stumbled, twisting his ankle in the process. With a groan and a vehement curse, Zayn fell to his knees, knowing that there was no way they'd let him keep going now. In instants, Niall was down beside him, putting his hands on his elbows and hauling him to his feet. He put a arm around his torso, and together, the couple hobbled over to a large flat rock, half melded into the mountainside. Niall basically forced Zayn to take a seat on it, his gentle hands frantically flitting up and down his body, making sure everything was alright. 

"Are you okay?" he asked tensely, squatting down beside Zayn and grasping his ankle tenderly in his hands. "It's not broken or sprained or anything, is it?" 

"I'm fine." Zayn said, quieter now. He can feel the other guys watching them, could see Louis edging closer, but he didn't say anything about that. He put a hand on Niall's chin and raised his head up, smiling softly. "Seriously, all good." 

"Why didn't you say you didn't feel great?" Niall asked, his voice getting higher. "I would've stopped! We wouldn't have gone up this blasted hill: I'm not heartless!" 

"It's just my shitty lungs, which are all my own fault." Zayn said calmly. "I'm perfectly fine, just got the wind knocked outta me. But I'll wait here for a little while, and then catch up with you guys at the top, because that'd make everybody feel better, I think." 

"I don't wanna leave you by yourself." Niall mumbled petulantly, kicking at a sod of earth beneath his feet. "What if you need something, or get lost following us?" 

 

Before Zayn could point out that there's exactly one path to the top of Knocknarea, which he can clearly see, and despite popular opinion, he's not really a guy who strays from the path, Louis jumped in with, 

"I'll stay with him! I'm a good babysitter, and before you disagree, remember who grew up with four baby sisters. If I can handle a stroppy teenager, an eleven year old obsessed with fairies, and two five year old twins, I can handle pouty Zayn." 

"I'm not pouty." Zayn muttered, to a chorus of laughs, so clearly, he negated what he just said. Despite some misgivings, (mostly from Liam's anxious face), the remaining boys set up off the mountain again, while Louis perched himself on the rock beside Zayn, leaning his back against the turf behind him and resting his head in the grass. Niall had briefly pressed his mouth to Zayn's before he left, scampering away after Liam and Harry, and Zayn was now running his fingers over his lips, trying to recapture the feeling. He felt a stupid smile on his face, because Niall's worry was rather endearing. Zayn was just planning the next piece in his portfolio, a portrait of Niall looking worried, when Louis spoke again. 

 

"He really cares about you, you know." Louis said, squinting an eye open against the sun and raising a hand to his forehead to block it out. "Niall, I mean." 

"Yeah." Zayn replied simply, not even blushing at his friend's words. "Yeah, he does." 

"And you care about him." 

"I do." 

Louis looked like he was about to say something else, and Zayn had a feeling he knew what it was. Probably something about how he's glad that Niall and Zayn are open with each other, because he and Harry never were. So then, imagine Zayn's surprise when Louis shoved the underside of his wrist under Zayn's nose and said, 

"Do I still smell like cologne to you?" 

"What the fuck?" Zayn asked, a bemused giggle escaping his lips. “Louis, what the actual fuck?”

“My cologne. Ralph Lauren’s Polo Red.” Louis said, sounding somewhat impatient. “Do I smell like it still?”

Zayn inclined his head closer to Louis’ wrist and sniffed delicately. Immediately, his nostrils were assaulted by a strong scent, something that was excessively masculine. Zayn jerked his head back and coughed, his eyes streaming. 

“Yeah, yeah, you do.” he sputtered. “Jesus, Lou, did you use the entire bottle this morning?”

“About half of it.” Louis said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Another waft of the cologne came Zayn’s way and he struggled not to cough again. “There’s even more on my neck. And this was after a shower that went on for approximately forty-five minutes. I’m gonna leave some extra money in the bedroom to pay the poor couple’s water bill.”

“Louis, I dunno where this strange fixation with smelling good is coming from, but trust me, you don’t need it.” Zayn said fervently, sending a wry grin his best friend’s way. “I’ve never found you pungent.”

“It’s not about smelling good.” Louis muttered under his breath, looking down at his feet and tapping his ankles against the rock. “I could honestly give a shit what I smell like, as long as it’s not- not-”

 

Here, Louis chuckled, shaking his head at his apparent foolishness. Dropping his hand down to their seat of stone, he wedged his fingernails underneath some moss and ripped it up. Louis then held the moss between his two palms and rolled it into a ball. No sooner was he done, then he chucked it away as hard as he could, clenching his jaw shut. Louis then turned back to Zayn, his face pained. There was a tic in his cheek, and Zayn could see his pulse pounding in his temples. 

“You’d think, after an entire month of not smelling like him, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to put myself right back where I started." Louis spat out bitterly. 

 

Zayn blinked rapidly as he understood, Louis' self-harsh words reverberating in his head. After they'd kissed last night, Louis must've smelled like Harry, which is why he spent so long in the shower, hiding behind the ruse of getting rid of sand. But it mustn't have been enough, because he'd done the same thing this morning, and then doused himself in Ralph Lauren's Polo Red. Zayn definitely knew what Harry-esque scent Louis was referring to: even thought he wasn't dating him, he spent enough time around the boy to be aware of that. Harry always smelled like cinnamon, wax candles, and Spearmint toothpaste. And given how fond Zayn was of Niall's apple shampooed hair, something that nobody else noticed, he can only imagine how intoxicating Louis got by what Harry smelled like. 

 

And Zayn didn't want to imagine how much Louis had missed it, or what it must've been like to suddenly have the scent on his own skin again. No wonder he went so mental, trying to scrub it away or cover it up. 

 

"After Valentine's Day, nearly everything I own smelled like Harry for _weeks_." Louis said, covering his eyes with the heels of his hands. "My duvet, my pillow, my clothes...I have this one jacket that he wore whenever he was at my house, and I swear to God, I almost gave it away to the Red Cross. It was like as soon as Harry himself wasn't in my general vicinity, I then found him everywhere else. And I thought I'd finally gotten rid of every trace of him. I convinced each of my sisters to sleep in my bed for a week. Told the younger ones that I was scared of monsters under the bed and needed them to protect me, and the older two, I just flat out begged. I've worn all the clothes enough and put them through the wash until they were threadbare, and that one jacket has hung in the farthest corner of my closet, where I can barely reach it, because he- he hung it up the last time he was over and I can't reach it without him." 

 

Louis' voice cracked and he pressed a hand to his mouth, blinking to stop himself from crying. He looked at Zayn then, his eyes aqua blue from his unshed tears. His lower lip was bitten between his teeth, so tightly that Zayn feared he'd tear right through it. He pushed his fringe back from his forehead and clenched it between his fingers, looking like he wanted to rip it out of his skull. 

"You just think you'd forget, you know?" Louis whispered breathlessly. "Forget how natural it feels. How one of his hands grips your shirt, and the other is corded through your hair, but never tugging hard enough to hurt. How your hands just rest on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, but never clinging on as tightly as you'd like, because you're terrified he'll run if you dig your claws in." 

 

"Or you'd forget how soft his hair is, brushing against your cheek. Or the way he kisses you like it's all he's ever wanted and all he ever plans on doing. And how he doesn't pretend not to see your tears, how he lets them come, how he brushes them away with fingers so gentle, that you don't understand how you could ever feel so much pain from one boy. You'd think you'd forget how soft his lips are, pressed against yours, and how he tastes just as much as cinnamon as he smells like it. But there's candle wax there too, because he lights so many candles in his room (you still worry he'll die in a fire), and there's toothpaste that you can never remember the brand name of, buts it's minty and sweet and you love it almost as much as you love him." 

 

"You'd think you'd forget what it feels like to meld together perfectly with the person you love, but you don't." Louis finished wretchedly, covering his face with his palms. "And as soon as I thought I did, I went and kissed Harry again. So, now I'm right at the beginning, smelling like him and still chasing the feeling of his mouth against mine." 

 

Louis let out a choked sob, pressing his fist to his mouth and biting his knuckle. Zayn hesitantly reached over and put an arm around him, pulling his friend into his side. Louis' hand scrabbled out blindly, and he patted Zayn's knee clumsily, probably trying to express his gratitude. Zayn rubbed Louis' trembling back gently, trying to get him to calm down a bit. Maybe then, they could talk. 

"What happened last night, Lou?" he asked, his chin resting on Louis' bowed head. "What happened between you and Harry?" 

Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, resting his head on Zayn's shoulder. Probably so he wouldn't have to look at him. Zayn heard him gulp loudly, sniffing one more time, and then Louis started to speak again. 

"Well, as you know, Harry followed me up the rocks. I don't know how he found me in the first place, because I can't remember how I ended up where I was. I just bolted, because I didn't care where the fuck I went, and I- I was crying so hard, I couldn't see, and then somehow, I was at the top of this huge-ass sand dune. The bottoms of my feet were bleeding, because there were these really sharp shells in the sand, and I must've dug my heels into them as I ran up. So I was just laying on my back, on grass that felt more like straw, heaving for breath because I literally couldn't stop crying." 

 

"And then I heard somebody climbing up the dune, putting their feet in the steps I'd made. And I know it easily could've been you, or Liam, or Ni. But something just told me that it was Harry, because that's how we worked. I'd run away, and he'd follow. So, he arrived at the top, and I didn't move a fucking muscle, and then Harry just sat down beside me. He didn't say anything, didn't touch me, didn’t try and make me stop." 

"Doesn't sound like Harry." Zayn said with a slight frown. Was Harry losing his lovable empathy? His best quality, at least in Zayn's opinion? But Louis shook his head, guessing Zayn's thoughts. 

"It's not that he didn't care." Louis continued quickly. "He did: it's Harry, he can't help it. But he just let me let it out, I guess? Like he knew I wouldn't feel better until I'd cried myself out. So eventually, I quieted down and sat up, and I was feeling pretty fuckin' awkward, at this point, because.....Because Harry had never seen me cry before. I mean, he's seen me get choked up or let a couple tears fall, but he'd never seen me absolutely lose it, because I never let him. And I knew he wondered about it, but he never asked, because he's Harry and he never pushes me. But last night, that was over, and I felt the most vulnerable I've ever felt in my entire life." 

 

"And then Harry just...he just-" Louis said with another breathless laugh. He passed a hand down his face, gasping quietly, and pressed his lips together tightly. "Harry took my hand in his left, then reached over and brushed away whatever tears lingered on my cheeks with his other. He looked me right in the eye, and said, " _I'm proud of you, and I love you, and I want you to always remember that_." And I- I didn’t know what else to do, so I leaned in and kissed him. But really, can you blame me?”

“I don’t.” Zayn said simply, because he truly didn’t. He couldn’t, because it’s probably what Zayn would’ve done too, in that situation. Louis relaxed slightly at Zayn’s words, leaning into his side more comfortably, and Zayn was glad he could put him at ease somehow. 

“And it worked. We fell right back into it as if we never stopped, as if I never fucked everything up. And every so often, we’d stop, and I talked about my dad. He didn’t even encourage me to do it, because I just did. I spilled my bloody guts to Harry, saying all this shit about how nervous I am for graduation and how I don’t think he’ll like me, and even...even that I think on the actual day of the ceremony, my dad won’t show up. I have this vision on an empty seat right next to my mother, and I can’t get it out of my mind.”

“That won’t happen, Lou.” Zayn said, feeling sure. “He planned his visit so far in advance, he definitely wouldn’t cancel it. He wants to be there for you.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me.” Louis muttered darkly, eyes on his feet. “He’s never done me a jot of good before, and yet, I can’t stop hoping that maybe, this time, he will.”

“That’s what happens when you love people, I guess.” Zayn said absentmindedly, contemplating the mechanics of a father and son and why approval is so needed by the boy. But at his words, Louis stiffened again, drawing in a swift breath. 

“Well, that explains Harry, doesn’t it.” he whispered with a wobble in his voice. “Why he keeps coming back to me, instead of realizing he’s better fucking off without me in his world. Because you’d think he wouldn’t wanna hear a fucking word about my dad. In some weird, fucked up way, I chose him over Harry. Like my heart could only handle- handle so much love at one time, and Harry lost out to my useless sperm donor. But Harry, he listened. He acknowledged every one of my fears and tried to help me through them, and every time I got the slightest bit upset, he’d kiss me again. Because he knew that’d make me smile.”

 

“So, we had this utterly perfect hour, in which everything was like the way it used to be. Maybe even better, because I finally showed him some emotion. But then, it was like somebody flipped a switch, and we realized what we were doing. Mid-kiss, no less. I could feel Harry go tense beneath me, and then he pulled away, crying silently. Because Harry, my beautiful intelligent Hazza, knew that really, nothing had changed at all.”

 

“It was awful, Zayn.” Louis choked out, his body trembling. “It was worse than breaking his heart on that goddamn swing set, and I swear to God, that day I heard it rip right down the middle. But last night, he was so resigned. Harry just kept nodding, like he was trying to convince himself everything was okay, when it wasn’t. And then, he leaned in one last time, kissed me softly, and whispered “ _Alright_.” against my cheek.”

“Maybe he meant like he was going to be alright, or that you two would be alright after that encounter, or-” Zayn said uselessly, trying to comfort Louis but not knowing how. He knew what he was saying was utter bullshit. That’s not what Harry had meant. 

“No, Zayn.” Louis said with a single shake of his head. “That “alright” was Harry giving in. That was him giving up. That was his goodbye. That's why I’m trying to get rid of how he smells as quickly as possible, because I better get used to it. I’m never going to smell like him again.”

 

The two boys fell silent, Louis apparently out of words and Zayn not knowing which ones to use. Zayn couldn’t help but think that Louis was right, as awful as it was to think that way. Harry couldn’t hang on forever, couldn’t climb up sand dunes for the rest of his life, trying to catch a boy who wouldn’t let himself be caught, wouldn’t let himself be loved. Louis glanced at Zayn’s face, seeing his expression, and he nodded firmly. 

“So, you agree.” he said softly, letting out a shaky breath. “I’m right, then.”

 

Instantly, Louis stood up, brushing off his hands. He tugged Zayn to his feet, crouching down and making sure his ankle was okay. Zayn let him take a few moments longer than necessary down there, seeing how his bowed shoulders were shaking with the strain of trying not to cry. The wind on Knocknarea was whistling around them, but Zayn still thought he heard Louis whisper, 

“I wish I was wrong.”

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Zayn was at the top of the mountain, standing on a large rock and trying to breathe. However, this time his breath wasn’t gone from physical activity, but because the view of Mullingar was fucking glorious from up here. It was making his artist’ heart sing, so he could only imagine how Harry felt. He was probably strangling himself on his camera strap, trying to take as many photographs as possible. 

 

The entire valley that was Mullingar lay beneath them. Neat green fields were visible, looking like the patchwork quilt, sewn by a loving hand. To the left, a river snaked its steady way through the earth, leading into a forest. He could see tiny cottages here and there, surrounded by fields of crops and the odd herd of sheep. (Yes, Zayn counted at least three herds of sheep). But the jewel in the crown was the ocean. It was a calm blanket of blue, and the rocks that were boulders yesterday were now pebbles. The sea looked beautiful from this height, and Zayn vaguely wondered how he’d ever been afraid of it. Did distance lessen fear? Or increase courage?

 

“This is fucking amazing.” Liam said lowly, coming up to stand beside Zayn. And Jesus, he must be impressed, if the view had Liam Payne cursing. Zayn felt himself grin, looking at his friend. He had a dopey smile on his face, his brown eyes merry, and Zayn threw an arm around his neck, pulling him into his side and tousling his hair. 

“Makes me feel like I can do anything.” he said softly, and Liam’s lips suddenly twitched into a smirk. 

“I would’ve said that some _body_ made you feel that way, Z.” he said, and Zayn blushed hotly, knowing exactly who he was talking about. Liam jerked his head backwards, indicating where Niall was. He was standing on top of a huge pile of rocks behind them, his arms outstretched like this was Machu Picchu, not Knocknarea, and he was Christ the Redeemer. It was a cute sight, granted, but Zayn was more wondering why there was a fucking enormous stack of rocks on top of this hill. Was it an attempt to add to the height, to qualify it as a mountain?

 

“Okay, so this is lovely.” Louis said from where he was standing, balancing precariously on the edge of the summit. (Harry was standing nearby, idly taking pictures of a patch of daisies at his feet). “But I’m kinda curious as to what you’re standing on, Ni.”

 

Niall looked down, a smile lighting up his features. He laughed out loud, the sound being snatched away by the wind. The weather was worsening, the sun disappearing behind gray storm clouds that were undoubtedly full of rain, so Zayn figured they’d wanna leave soon. Niall chuckled again, shaking his head. 

“Okay, everybody has to grab a rock from the ground around them, but _not_ from the pile. Then, climb up here and I’ll regale you with the story of Meabh’s Cairn.” 

 

With confused looks sent between all four of them, the boys shrugged and then did as Niall said. Zayn scooped up a rock from the ground, about the size of his fist. He clenched it in his hand and then started climbing up the rock pile. And Jesus fucking Christ, how did Niall do this? He’d scampered up the thing like a billy-goat, even though all the rocks must’ve been constantly shifting beneath his weight. Somehow, Zayn made it to the top without losing any limbs, and he stood side by side with Liam, Louis, and Harry. Niall stood in front of them, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He too had a rock of his own. Were they about to be initiated into some Irish cult?

 

“Okay.” Niall said with obvious glee in his voice. He was clearly psyched to tell them about whatever this was. “You’re standing on the gravesite of an ancient Irish queen, Queen Meabh of Connacht.”

Immediately, everyone shifted around uneasily, trying to make themselves lighter. Ancient or not, it must be sorta disrespectful to stand on graves, right? Niall giggled again, holding a hand to his mouth. His eyes glimmered merrily, looking brighter than the sea that stretched out beneath the mountain. 

“Don’t worry about it, lads. I don’t know all the ins and outs of Irish mythology, it never interested me that much, but everybody hated Meabh, for a lot of reasons. Seriously, they called her an evil old witch and everything!"

"Ah okay." Louis said with a faint chuckle. "Let's happily dance on her remains then." 

"Well, anyway, Meabh was like the biggest bitch of Old Ireland, so obviously she died by assassination. One of her enemies from Ulster hurled a rock at her head or something, and then she was buried up here. And somebody started the tradition of putting rocks on her gravesite, because they thought she was so evil, that she'd come back to life if they didn't." 

"You mean people put stones on her grave to literally keep her in the ground?" Liam said incredulously, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. "That's...sorta cruel, isn't it?" 

"Listen Leyum, I love ya, but don't get an Irishman talking to a British one about the definition of cruelty." Niall said with a wink, and Liam giggled, knowing Niall wasn't really annoyed. As he looked at his boyfriend, Zayn felt his Niall Smile spread across his cheeks, making his cheekbones ache. 

"Anyway, that's what the rocks are for." Niall said, waving his hand which held the rock at them. "You reach the top, and you throw it as hard as you can, and you make a wish. I dunno when the wishing business came into the whole thing, but I really like the idea, so I aways do it." 

"Yeah, it's nice." Louis said, and Zayn was sure he didn't imagine the melancholy in his voice. He knew exactly what Louis would be wishing for. And the saddest part was that Harry probably wasn't wishing for the same thing anymore. "We throw on three, then?" 

"Yeah, sure! I'll count it down." Niall said brightly, scrambling over to stand beside Zayn. With the hand that wasn't holding sediment, he interlocked their fingers, rubbing his thumb over the outside of Zayn's hand. Zayn focused on that sensation, feeling his heart start to pound and his ears to ring. It was the exact same reaction he'd had earlier, with the sunflowers, and he tried to ignore it as best he could. 

 

"One." 

 

_What are you making me feel?_

 

"Two." 

 

_Why am I not afraid of not knowing what it is?_

 

"Three." 

 

_Why do I feel like I have nothing left to wish for, just because your hand is wrapped up in mine?_

 

On three, Zayn hurled his rock with all his might. And he doesn't remember what he wished for, but he remembers looking at Niall when he did it. 

 

No sooner had their rocks settled into the pile, adding to the weight of the countless wishes, then the thunderstorm started. At the booming sound, Niall stared up at the sky in shock, his forehead creased as he took in the ominous gray clouds. 

"No bloody way." he said incredulously. "We never get thunderstorms, what the hell-" 

As of just to prove him wrong, more thunder boomed above them, and a single bolt of lightning cut through the dark sky. There was a few seconds of utter silence among the boys, and then the heavens opened. 

 

This was the hardest rain Zayn had experienced in Ireland, and possibly in his entire life. Everyone was drenched instantly, their bodies being pummeled by the heavy raindrops. Gasping in shock, Zayn raised his head to the sky, feeling water land on his closed eyelids and lips. He chuckled in disbelief, shaking his head a few times. 

"Jesus Christ." Niall said beside him, a laugh in his voice. "I can't fucking win." 

"Are you kidding?" Louis crowed, running to the very top of the rocks and raising his hands in the air, welcoming the rain. "This is fucking fantastic! We're the kings of the goddamn mountain!" 

"I hate to be a downer." Harry said as he valiantly shoved his camera up his jumper, trying to keep it dry. "But shouldn't we get off this mountain? Since it's a thunderstorm, and lightning strikes at the highest point..."

"Oh _fuck_." Louis sputtered, scrambling to not be standing at the highest point of Knocknarea anymore. "Yeah, yeah, let's go. And quickly." 

"Race to the bottom?" Liam said suddenly, raising his head. Zayn looked at him in amazement, wondering where the fuck the actual Liam Payne had gone. This Liam was grinning uncontrollably, looking way too excited about their possible demise on this hill. Running down Knocknarea while soaking wet seemed like a recipe for a broken leg or worse. However, it was also what would get them to the bottom fastest, which seemed like a risk they'd have to be willing to take. 

 

So, everybody shrugged and started to sprint downwards. 

 

Zayn knew instantly that this decision was a mistake. For one thing, the rain was so heavy that they could barely see where they were going. For another, the grass was slick, offering no grip whatsoever, so every couple seconds, one of the boys nearly fell. They ran as a row of five, nobody breaking away from the pack just yet. But Zayn could've told you what the end lineup would be. It'd come down to Liam and Louis vying for first in the race, Harry loping home as third, because his legs are like a fucking racehorse's, and then Niall and himself: Niall because of his shorter legs and Zayn because of his shit lungs. 

 

"Hey, Payno." Louis jeered next to him, true to Louis form. "Loser buys the winner a pint, yeah?" 

"Sure, mate." Liam said, bowing his head and beginning to run faster. " 'Cept I hate the taste of Guiness, so let's make it an ice cream." 

Louis laughed recklessly, pouring on speed. He and Liam swiftly broke away, matching each other stride for stride. Making Zayn's prediction true, Harry stayed in the middle, windmilling his arms to stay upright as he ran. And he and Niall were in the back, looking at each other every so often and bursting out laughing. 

"I can't- believe- this." Niall huffed out, a grin on his cheeks despite his disbelief. "We never get- thunder ever- and the one day-" 

Thunder crashed right above their heads, making Niall jump and cut off his words. He stared up at the sky with worry, nibbling his lip between his teeth. The lightning around them casting a sickly light, making their skin pallid. However, Zayn thought Niall would've been pale anyway. He was wringing wet, his hair stuck flat to his head and clothes clinging to his body, and he looked terrified. 

 

And that was enough to make Zayn pull out in front of him, crouching down and putting his arms out to catch Niall. His boyfriend ran straight into his back, stopping their progression for a few moments. They stumbled on the soaked grass, trying to find their balance. 

"Get on my back." Zayn instructed thickly, spitting water out of his mouth. "I'll carry you the rest of the way." 

"What? Zayn, no." Niall said adamantly, shaking his head. "I'm fine, just kinda jumpy, it's alright." 

"You're scared." Zayn said stubbornly. "And I don't want that. C'mon, you're light as fuck. Get on." 

Niall sighed, but compliantly did as Zayn said, probably knowing he wouldn't win this argument. He put his hands on Zayn's shoulders and jumped, wrapping his legs around his waist. Zayn braced his hands on Niall's legs, and Niall wound his arms around Zayn's neck, pressing his cheek to his back. 

"But don't you wanna win the race?" Niall mumbled halfheartedly against his neck, and Zayn just laughed, because didn't he understand?

"I've got you. I've already won everything." 

 

Zayn started to run again, Niall clinging onto him tightly. Really, they're lucky that they didn't fall and go tumbling down the mountain, breaking many bones in the process. But Zayn just felt lucky in that moment, losing any of his inhibitions. He was lucky that he had Niall. He was lucky that they were there together, on that mountainside in the pouring rain. He was lucky to be alive and get to feel the rain on his skin and the wind in his hair and the warmth of Niall's body, pressed against his. 

 

As he ran, the same feelings from earlier hit Zayn all over again. He could hear the now familar _boomboomboom_ in his ears, echoed by the steady thudding of his heart. His face was flushed red, hot to the touch despite the storm, and his hands holding Niall were trembling. Niall, however, didn't seem to notice. He hooked his chin over Zayn's shoulder as they toddled down Knocknarea, giggling uncontrollably every time they almost fell. Through his narrowed eyes, Zayn could see Liam, Louis, and Harry waiting for them at the bottom. Louis was stretched out on the ground, his diaphragm heaving, so Zayn figured he came first and nearly killed himself to do so. Liam was stretched out a stitch in his side, and Harry was just standing with his head tipped back to the sky, his mouth wide open as he tried to catch raindrops. 

 

And, not soon enough but all too soon at the same time, Niall and Zayn had reached them. They slowed to a halt, Zayn skidding on the mud that was rapidly forming around his feet. Niall jumped off his back and tottered around, laughing deliriously. Zayn just watched him, feeling like he was going to burst with whatever was going on inside. It hurt to breathe, causing an inexplicable ache in Zayn's chest and stomach. And Niall was still laughing giddily, seeming unable to stop himself. 

 

Zayn couldn't stop himself either. 

 

In two strides, he closed the distance between Niall and himself, grabbed him by the elbows, and rammed their mouths together messily. Niall jolted at the contact, but then relaxed into the embrace, beginning to kiss Zayn back just as enthusiastically. Niall corded his hands through Zayn's dark hair, and Zayn put one hand on the back of his neck, keeping him in place. 

 

Normally, they'd never do this, would never actually snog in front of their best friends. They were both too shy about the whole PDA thing, in case anybody saw, and that even carried over with the three people they trusted most. But now, they seemed to completely forget about that, like the thunderstorm had wiped away any embarrassment. Zayn felt like he was on fire as Niall's mouth basically attacked his: seriously, he was surprised the raindrops didn't evaporate off him instantly. Off to his left, Zayn distantly heard Louis give a low wolf whistle. 

"Jesus, we're getting a bit of a show, lads." he said as Niall fisted one hand through Zayn's shirt and insistently pulled him closer. "Should we avert our eyes?" 

"Thunder must do it for them." Liam said with affectionate amusement in his voice, and fucking hell, Zayn should've been embarrassed by _that_. 

 

But he wasn't. 

 

Suddenly, Niall's feet hit a slippery patch of mud. And Niall was many things, but he wasn't very coordinated, bless him. He went down instantly, his entire body landing flat on the ground. And Zayn, because they were connected by the fucking mouth, went right with him. Things only got worse though, because then Niall's knee jerked up as a reflex and nailed Zayn in the balls. 

 

" _Fuck_." Zayn gasped in pain, rolling off Niall's body and stretched out on his back. "Oh holy fucking shit." 

"Zayn!" Niall exclaimed, scrambling to his knees and leaning over his boyfriend. "Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, 'm good." Zayn managed to say through watering eyes. He heard the other boys laughing uproariously, and he mentally cursed them. Fuck them all. 

"Guys, let's leave them alone." Harry said sensibly, beginning to walk down the dirt path and beckoning for the other two to follow him. "Zayn might need some time to recover." 

 

Okay, fuck them all except Harry. 

 

Zayn and Niall were left by themselves in the pouring rain, Zayn trying to catch his breath and ignore the ache in his groin. Squinting his eyes open, he looked over at Niall, who had a fist pressed to his mouth. However, it didn't seem to be from worry. 

"Go ahead, you can laugh." Zayn said with a low chuckle of his own. 

Instantly, Niall let loose, toppling backwards into the muddy grass. His _ahahahahahaha's_ filled the air, almost drowning out the noise of the rain. He sputtered helplessly, gasping for air. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-" he choked out through his giggles "I shouldn't be laughing, it's my fucking fault, and you're in pain....but Christ on a bike, we ran down a mountain in a thunderstorm without falling once, and then we collapse mid-snog? For fuck's sake!" 

 

The true hilarity of the situation hit Zayn then, and he started to laugh too, a sound that rose up in his belly and made him cringe in pain a little bit. His chuckles melded together perfectly with Niall's, creating a strange kind of music. Zayn shut his eyes, reaching over to take Niall's hand and kissing his palm. As he listened to Niall's joy, Zayn remembered the first time he heard Niall's laugh, at lunch his first day of school. He remembered knowing that he was a goner then, remembered thinking _this boy is going to break my heart someday_. And how Zayn hoped it wasn't true. 

 

Rolling over on his side, Zayn crawled over to Niall. He slid on top of him, sitting on his narrow hips and just watching his boyfriend try to stifle his giggles. And suddenly, words were at Zayn's lips, and he couldn't stop them. 

"I love your laugh." he blurted out. "I fucking love it. It's my favourite thing about you, which is really saying something-" 

Niall leaned up and captured Zayn's mouth with his own, cutting off his words. He rested his hands on Zayn's waist gingerly, like he'd break him if he clung on. Niall sucked on Zayn's bottom lip and then whispered against his cheek, 

"We weren't quite finished, were we? Please say we weren't." 

"Yeah, yeah, we definitely weren't." Zayn replied hurriedly, kissing him again. 

 

And suddenly, nothing else mattered. It didn't matter that they were lying in mud, making out. Or that their friends were waiting for them, probably figuring out how to make this as embarrassing as possible for them both. It didn't matter that their vacation was ending in twelve hours, or they had countless responsibilities waiting for them at him. It didn't matter that Niall hadn't told Zayn about his dead mother for five months. It didn't matter that Niall had scars on his skin, because Zayn would dedicate every fucking day to make sure no more appeared. 

It didn't matter that Zayn didn't remember what he wished for, because really, all his wishes had come true as soon as Niall Horan entered his life. He no longer had to wish on shooting stars, because he had one of his very own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :D don't quote me on the Irish mythology, the story I used was just what I've been told. Tell me what you thought! Comments and kudos make me happy, and you're all stars :D
> 
> P.S- if anyone drew fanart of this fanfic, like any scene of it at all, I WOULD LOVE YOU FOREVER


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK THIS STORY ISN'T DEAD I'M NOT DEAD
> 
> Even though I feel pretty close XD I've been off school sick for the past two days, and instead of resting, I wrote this! Good choices, right? This chapter is shorter than the last few, and not much happens, but what does happen, I really love :D I hope you guys will do!!! Comments and kudos are much appreciated!

_Hey petal :DDD wanna meet the boys and me at Nando's after school? I've got a hankering for perri perri chicken....and a hankering for you ;) it feels like I haven't seen you in weeks!_

 

_I wish I could, songbird.....I'm working on my portfolio basically day and night, the end of the school year is coming up quick, and the friggin' thing still isn't done_. 

 

_The portfolio that I still haven't seen? XD_

 

_You can see it once it's complete....I promise :P_

 

_Okay, I can sacrifice seeing you today if it means I get to see your art sooner.....but can we please hang out soon? I miss you D:_

 

Zayn winced as he looked down at his phone screen, biting on the inside of his cheek. He stared at the pixelated words of his text conversation with his boyfriend, pursing his lips together. With a rushed shake, he typed out a _I miss you too babe, see you soon, I swear_ and sent it, jabbing at the screen forcefully with his thumb. Then he shoved his phone back into his pocket, hefting his backpack higher on his shoulders and striding down the hall, towards the art room. It felt he never left that place, these days. 

 

It was mid-April. A month had passed since they returned from Ireland, and honestly, Zayn couldn’t really tell you what happened in all that time. A whole lot of nothing, really. The five of them went to school daily, during which Louis and Harry continued their odd dance around each other, not speaking one moment and then staring longingly at each other the next. But where they were romantically unsuccessful, Liam was the opposite. He’d told Sophia he loved her literally the moment he stepped off the ferry onto English soil. She was waiting for them at the dock, and he ran off without so much as his suitcase, picking her up and swinging her around. And thankfully, she’d reciprocated the feeling, so Liam was the happiest Zayn had ever seen him. He was on cloud nine constantly, which was really beautiful to see. 

 

And Zayn and Niall just continued to be themselves. Things slowly settled back into normalcy, and Zayn was almost intimidated by it. Because once he’d normalized with Niall before, settled into the steady routine of going to school together and dating, and Zayn’s world had been upended on March 3rd. But even though things felt the same, they were also different. Better. Zayn and Niall talked more, about everything. Niall made it his own personal goal to speak about his mother to Zayn at least once a week, and so far, he was consistent with it. And if Zayn sensed anything untoward, anything wrong, he withheld his qualms about asking Niall about it, and just asked. 

 

So really, things would’ve been fantastic, if trying to get into college hadn’t been completely fucking with Zayn’s entire existence. Because since returning from spring break, Zayn had been having almost daily nervous breakdowns about it, and every moment where he wasn’t panicking, he was painting. Or drawing. He was fairly convinced his fingers would fall off soon. And most importantly, he wasn’t getting to see Niall at all, because he was too goddamn busy creating an art portfolio all about him. (Zayn was really beginning to hate the irony behind that). 

 

They’d tried countless times over the past couple weeks to see each other. Zayn was almost running out of date ideas; he’d now suggested ice skating, the cinema, or another dinner. But none of them had worked out, because they were both so busy with fucking school stuff, and at this point, he’d take sitting in an empty classroom with Niall for thirty minutes, and possibly snogging him for about fifteen of those minutes. Was that really too much to ask?

 

Apparently, it was, as Zayn walked faster to the art room, his head bowed to look at his feet. The quicker he got there, the quicker he got his work done, and then the quicker he got home. A few minutes later, Zayn had reached the room, laying a hand on the door knob and flinging it open. Stepping inside, he distemperedly tossed his backpack down onto a chair and tugged his school cardigan off his body. Rolling his shoulders backwards until they popped, Zayn then stretched his neck, giving a low groan as he hung his head. 

 

"Bad day, Malik?" 

 

Eyes flying open, Zayn whirled around, looking for the source of the voice. He saw a flash of color in the left of the room, and his eyes widened as he took the sight in. Ms. Waverly was standing in a corner, wearing a long teal dress, and Ms. Tissons was seated at the nearest table, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at the Art teacher. Trying to put the pieces together, Zayn remembered that the last time he'd seen the two women together, Ms. Waverly agreed to be the chemistry teacher's head bridesmaid, which must explain the dress. It didn't really explain the dopey, sweet smile on Ms. Tissons' face though. 

 

Or maybe it did. Because Ms. Waverly looked gorgeous in teal. The equal balance and contrast of her pale skin, fire engine hair, and the greenish-blue of the gown nearly inspired Zayn to draw something other than Niall. Just nearly though. The dress was mermaid-style, hugging Ms. Waverly' slim curves, the lack of straps enunciating her chest. Zayn could just see the feathers of her angel's wings tattoos peeking up over the bones of her shoulders. 

"We were just-" Ms. Tissons said slowly, giving her blonde head a slight shake. "Uh- Wren- _Ms. Waverly_ is my bridesmaid...I'm getting married! And she's my bridesmaid, and the dress just came in today, and we- we wanted to see how it looked." 

 

Zayn gave a little nod, glancing between his two teachers nervously. He wasn't sure if he should leave or not: i.e. Zayn wanted to run out of there as quickly as possible. Ms. Waverly looked at Zayn, giving him a winning smile, but in her eyes, he could see a hint of panic, and he figured she'd never forgive him if he left now. 

"Wanna give your artistic opinion, Z?" Ms. Waverly said, raising up the dress with one hand and turning slowly in a circle. "Obviously, it'll need to be hemmed, because my legs are long, but I'm not a giraffe. And my tats can't be helped for today, but I'll definitely get makeup on the day of." 

"A little rough around the edges." Zayn teased goodnaturedly. ducking to the side as Ms. Waverly swatted him on his bicep. "But you normally clean up well, Ms. W, so I'm sure you'll be grand." 

 

Being hit by a sudden, if somewhat evil, inspiration, Zayn turned to Ms. Tissons, fighting a grin. 

"What do you think, Ms. Tissons? You're the bride, after all." 

Instantly, Ms. Tissons flushed bright red, staring down at her feet. She rubbed the back of her neck, opening and closing her mouth a few times. Zayn could hear her gulp from where he was standing. He struggled not to laugh from endearment, because really, the Chemistry teacher could be Niall’s older sister or something. He acted the exact same way when he was embarrassed. 

 

_Jesus Christ_ , Zayn missed him. 

 

To his left, Ms. Waverly jabbed her bony elbow into Zayn’s ribs, making him wince. She looked at him accusingly, her eyes narrowed. She mouthed _what the fuck, Z?_ silently, and he shrugged, taking a step to the side so she wouldn’t elbow him again. He knew it was a sorta shitty thing for him to do, but seriously, somebody had to do something between these two. And considering Zayn couldn’t really crash the upcoming wedding and say his objection of “oh yeah, Minister, can the pretty redhead in teal just swap places with the dickhead groom for maybe five seconds?,” something had to be done between them before that. 

 

(It hit Zayn that maybe he was concocting an Operation Leprechaun of his own, and he mentally reminded himself to never, ever tell Louis. Anyway, Operation Artist would be _so_ much better). 

 

“She looks….she looks perfect.” Ms. Tissons whispered with her eyes glued to the floor. “Utterly perfect. Nothing needs to be changed. I better be careful, actually, or else she’ll outshine me on the day of.”

“Not possible.” Ms. Waverly blurted out suddenly, then looking ready to incinerate herself and probably Zayn too. “I’ve seen your dress and-and your face- and yeah, you’re gonna look ace.”

 

Well, they definitely knew who was the more eloquent now. Zayn could feel the tidal waves of embarrassment surging off Ms. Waverly, and she hurriedly stepped past Zayn, nearly tripping over the hem of the dress. 

“I’m gonna change out of this now.” she mumbled, biting on her bottom lip. “I’ll- I’ll hang it back up and then swing by your classroom later, Jenny- drop it back to you, like. Zayn, just- just wait here, I’ll get to you later.”

 

Zayn was feeling worried about his wellbeing as Ms. Waverly rushed off to the closet to get changed again. He figured he better avoid items that could cause him bodily harm, so the microwave that dried clay, the pottery wheel, and recently sharpened pencils were all off limits today. Zayn turned back to his backpack and unzipped it, taking out the recent sketches of Niall he’d done late last night when he couldn’t sleep, drawing to the light of his mobile phone. Ms. Tissons sank down into her chair, studying him seriously with her chin propped on her palm. Zayn glanced at her and smiled slightly, shuffling his papers from side to side. But too late, he realized that meant that his Chemistry teacher had a clear view of them. 

 

“I know that face!” she gasped excitedly, as if she’d just made the discovery of the year. “Niall, right? Period Eight, desk three, row five. Wow, you’ve captured him perfectly!” 

“Erm-ah- yeah.” Zayn said lamely, his stomach in a knot of nerves. “It’s good old Ni.” 

 

_What the fuck am I even saying? Good old Ni, what the fuck?_

 

“Does he know you’re drawing him?”

“Uh, well, not really….”

“You should show him! I’m sure he’d be so flattered!”

 

_Is this karma for what I did earlier? Is life fucking me right now because of Operation Artist?_

 

“Is it for your art class or something? Do you have to draw a peer?

 

_FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK_

 

“Yes, that’s one of the assignments from the semester.” Ms. Waverly called from inside the closet, her voice muffled. “And really, Zayn has it easy. Horan’s cherubic face is begging to be drawn. When I was in school, I had the same assignment, and I got paired with Molly Davidson. Poor thing had an overbite like a chipmunk’s _and_ a unibrow.” 

 

Zayn shut his eyes as the panic that clutched his body eased. God bless Ms. Waverly: she always managed to fix shit. Ms. Tissons nodded understandingly, lifting her handbag onto her shoulder. She grabbed a spare piece of paper and scribbled a quick note to the Art teacher, sticking it to her computer screen. Then she left, and a few minutes later, Ms. Waverly came back into the room, wearing her normal clothes once more. 

 

A few things weren’t mentioned between the two artists in the art room that day. One being that Ms. Waverly punched Zayn particularly hard in the shoulder as she passed him by. Or that Ms. Tissons had signed her name with a little heart on the note. But there was one more thing, one thing personal to himself that Zayn didn’t mention. 

 

Today, Zayn was supposed to take all his portfolio pieces out from their folders and assess them one by one, figuring out if any needed touch ups and what order he wanted them submitted to UArts in. But as he stood there, looking at his nearly completed portfolio, Zayn couldn’t stay focused. There were images of Niall propped up on easels in each corner of the room. Everywhere Zayn looked, there he was, smiling, frowning, surfing, sleeping. Blonde and blue permeated Zayn’s sight, making him wonder if he’d ever been able to paint with any other colors. Or if he’d ever be able to again. 

 

The art room looked like the inside of Zayn’s head. 

 

Which was good, in a way, because everywhere else inside Zayn was going mad. Once again, his heart was pounding, his cheeks were flushed, and he couldn’t breathe properly, drawing in gasps of air at odd intervals. It was the first time since Ireland that he’d felt like this, but he wasn’t terrified by it. Because just seeing Niall’s face, created by Zayn’s own hands, trying so hard to be gentle, had brought it on. And that could never be terrifying. 

 

In fact, the only thing Zayn mentioned in the art room that day was this:

 

“It’s done.” 

 

Okay, Zayn loved his friends, truly he did. They’d gotten him through the hardest years of adolescence, and were always there when he needed them to be. But right now, Zayn sorta wished they’d all kinda just disappear for a little while. Because he's sitting side by side with Niall, on their couch in the student centre, their thighs barely brushing, and it took every ounce of willpower Zayn possessed to not grab his boyfriend and kiss the face off him. 

 

And Zayn hated being clingy like this, but goddammit, today he just couldn't help it. Earlier, the centre had been bustling with people, causing Zayn to sit on the opposite side of the couch as Niall. He’d wanted to rip out his hair as more and more people came inside, all chattering loudly. All the preppy kids on student council were hanging up handmade posters about the annual Seventh Class dance, and Jesus, that was a headache and a half. 

 

Every year, the seventh class had a end of year dance, a few weeks before they actually graduate. It’s a wildly pompous affair, in which the girls wear dresses that cost far more than they should, the boys hire suits and pretend that they’re comfortable, and multiple limo rentals across town are kept in business for another twelve months. The entire school was going mad over it currently, taking bets on who’d ask who. It wasn’t required to attend the dance with a date, but most people did. In past years, it’d taken on a whole new level, resulting with guys coming up with crazy schemes to invite a girl. The smallest ranged from flowers and a poster, and the grandest invite Zayn’d ever seen was a volunteer firefighter arriving to school in the fire engine, hanging off the goddamn ladder. 

 

Personally, Zayn found the entire thing tedious. He was a bit too non-conformist for dances, and plus, he just didn’t want to expend the energy to dress up and twirl around on the gymnasium floor for a couple hours. However, all his friends were going. Thankfully, Liam had simply asked Sophia in person, because some people still have sense, and Louis and Harry had both told Zayn, on separate occasions, that they were going stag. So that left him and Niall. And whenever Zayn thought about it, he couldn’t escape the small niggling feeling that maybe, they should go together. 

 

Like, _go_. As in, Zayn would come up with some crazy invite scheme: Operation Leprechaun, Dance Style. And they’d rent matching suits and maybe the color of Zayn’s tie would match the color of Niall’s shirt. And maybe that color would be blue. Or something like that. And they’d get photographs with their best friends at somebody’s house, all their parents crying because their boys were grown up. Maybe Zayn would bring Niall pink roses and maybe Niall would bring Zayn sunflowers and maybe they’d both put one in each other’s lapel, even though they didn’t match. Maybe they’d dance together in the middle of the gymnasium, like proper slow dancing, to some slow song that nobody really knows the words of. Maybe nobody would give a shit that Niall Horan was dancing with Zayn Malik. 

 

Maybe Zayn had put more thought into this than he was willing to admit. 

 

Maybe Zayn really, _really_ wanted to take Niall to the dance. 

 

But that wasn’t really a possibility, and that was okay. Zayn had briefly suggested it a few days ago, but Niall didn’t seem totally comfortable with the idea, on account of still not being out of the closet. Which was something Zayn could understand, or at least, he could definitely try. And they’d still go. Sure, it wouldn’t be as each other’s date, but it’d still be fun. They’d still get pictures and they could still match “accidentally” and it’d be fine. More than fine. It’d be great. 

 

Zayn hoped. 

 

Anyway. 

 

Now, the centre was deserted except for the five of them, so it allowed Niall and Zayn a little bit more liberty in their affection, and Zayn was definitely taking it. He held both Niall’s hands in a loose grip, his tan thumbs pressed against the snowy undersides of Niall’s wrists. Niall was leaning against his shoulder slightly, his school cardigan half hanging off his body. Looking at him, Zayn noticed that his hair was getting longer, the blonde locks brushing his collar. He must not have gelled it up into a quiff today. 

 

Reaching over with a gentle hand, Zayn toyed with the few curls at the base of Niall’s neck, wrapping them around his fingers. Niall leaned into the touch, shutting his eyes briefly as Zayn’s hand travelled up through his hair, his blunt nails scratching circles through the strands. 

“Hi.” Niall said simply, opening his eyes slowly and grinning at Zayn lazily. “Hi Zayn.” 

“Hi Niall.” Zayn whispered back, leaning over and bumping his nose against Niall’s cheekbone. 

“We've already said hi three times.” Niall breathed, turning his head so the profiles of their faces lined up. “People will think we've got amnesia. But we probably deserve it: I wanna forget the last few days without seeing you.” 

“I think we deserve something else.” Zayn mumbled, letting his eyes flick to Niall’s lips, somewhat suggestively. “Something that involves both our mouths being occupied, but definitely not talking.” 

Zayn had just leaned in to close the gap between them with Niall put a tender hand on his chest, fiddling with the loose buttons of Zayn’s white shirt. He smiled at Zayn brightly, giving a slow shake of his head. 

“We can't, not right here, and definitely not in front of our mates. I think they're still scarred for life from our mountainside excursions.” 

“My balls are scarred from that, Ni.” Zayn dead panned and Niall burst out laughing, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Besides, nobody might notice. They all seem occupied themselves.” 

 

That was true. The other three boys were all sprawled on the other sofas, busy with their own things. Liam was half asleep in his chair, curled up with his head on the armrest. His face looked the most relaxed Zayn had seen it in weeks: the stress of getting into college was getting to them all. Louis sat quietly in the corner, an uncharacteristic location for him, a tattered spiral notebook in his hands and a pencil tucked behind his ear. And Harry was kneeling down in front of the coffee table in the middle of the room, playing what looked like Memory to Zayn. He kept shuffling cards around, flipping them over and studying them before moving them to a different location on the surface. And okay, maybe Zayn could wait to kiss Niall to satisfy his curiosity about what the fuck Harry was up to. 

“Whatcha doing, H?” Zayn called, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. Harry glanced up briefly, flashing Zayn a distracted smile before turning back to his task. From this improved angle, Zayn could see that he was actually organizing photographs, instead of cards. 

 

“I'm deciding what photos to put in the final submission of the yearbook, and which ones to get rid of. So like...imagine all the times I’ve had my camera and took pictures in the past year. Take all those pictures, and sort through the ones that are actually appropriate to put into the yearbook.” Harry explained. “Plus, Mr. Zuka wants it by tomorrow, and as of today, I hadn't started. So I'm kinda panicking a bit, but it'll get done if I stay at this pace.” 

“I can help you!” Niall said enthusiastically, tumbling off the couch and kneeling beside Harry, his hands eager to assist. (Zayn, however, nearly put his fist through the upholstery as Niall left his personal space). Figuring that helping out was the only way he’d get to be close to the Irish boy at all, Zayn kneeled down too, taking a stack of glossy photographs and beginning to sift through them. 

 

Zayn’s disgruntled frown soon slid off of his face though, because Harry really was a great photographer. Every photograph on the table chronicled the past nine months of the school year. Harry had gotten nearly every aspect of life at their school. There were pictures of the footie team slogging around in a mud spattered pitch, and of cheerleaders being thrown high into the air, suspended by nothing but hope. There were pictures of dancers twirling around onstage, their golden skirts flaring out around them, and of a soloist standing dead centre, with a single spotlight shining on her. There was Ms. Tissons, standing by a boiling over beaker. There was Ms. Waverly, her back to the camera as she painted feverishly. There was faces Zayn didn’t know, unknown students that he’d probably passed in the halls a million times, and he suddenly wanted to know them all. 

 

And of course, there was Harry’s four best friends. They were all very prominent through all the pictures. Basically everything they’d done since September was catalogued. Zayn saw pictures of them all sitting around the park, probably the very day that Niall came running into their lives, both figuratively and literally. He saw one of Liam sitting in a diner with Sophia half in his lap, his face contorted with joy as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. Niall and Zayn were very featured as well, but rarely one without the other. Harry had snapped countless photos of them over the months, Zayn knew that, but he hadn’t truly known the extent. And in nearly every photograph, Zayn was smiling his telltale Niall Smile. He’d just never realized how early it’d truly appeared. 

 

But of course, there was one particular boy who popped up in photos far more often than any of the others. From one kind of artist to another, Zayn could understand. If Harry was anything like himself, his hands probably couldn’t stop themselves from reaching for that camera when Louis was around. He was everywhere: in a selfie with him covered in glitter, circa New Year’s Eve, standing on a table at that house party with Harry draped around him, sitting on his own couch during their Secret Santa, a few tear tracks on his face. 

 

He was sitting across from Harry in the library, his head bowed over a book. He was sitting beside Harry on a swing, the now familiar frown on his face as he looked into the distance. He was lying half asleep in the bed and breakfast in Ireland, his face shoved into a pillow. He was surfing, looking ready to topple over. He was standing on top of the mountain, his arms outstretched. He was running down the mountain, his legs taut with power, his arms swinging to propel himself away. Louis, running away: that must be an image Harry had burned across his eyelids, across his very heart. 

 

Zayn gulped and swiftly arranged the photographs of Louis all into a neat pile, tucking them into his pocket. He’d give them to Harry later, because it seemed he’d unknowingly compiled a portfolio of his own. 

 

They sat there in silence for maybe half an hour, just looking through the pictures. Every so often, Harry would find one of Zayn and Niall and give Zayn a nudge, smiling brightly. And Zayn would smile back just as happily, taking the picture from Harry and tracing his fingers across the glossy surface (most likely over Niall’s face, but shh, he’s not a sap). Really, nobody said anything at all, until Harry’s deep voice broke the quiet, sounding disgustingly endeared. 

“Oh, Z, Ni, _please_ let me put this one in the book.” he half whimpered, staring at the photograph held between his long, nimble fingers. “It’s too good to just sit in a frame, it’s the most yearbook worthy shot I’ve ever taken, please.’

“My goal is to be in this book as little as possible.” Niall responded with a chuckle. “Haven’t you noticed me smuggling away any pics with me in them?”

“Just look at it.” Harry pleaded, trying to gently shove the shot into Niall’s hand. “It’s so- so _you guys_.”

 

Curiosity piqued, Zayn leaned over and intercepted Harry’s hand, working his grip off the picture. He put it down on his lap, bowing his head and studying it more closely. Niall was clearly intrigued now too, because he worked his way into Zayn’s space, leaning their heads close together so they could both look. Zayn could feel the warmth of Niall’s skin bleeding into his cheek. 

 

The picture Harry loved so dearly was really quite simple. It was taken sometime in the autumn, because it was still warm enough to be sitting outside during lunch. The boys had fled the cafeteria and gone to eat on the grounds of the school, sitting underneath a large oak tree. Zayn had purposefully sat beside Niall that day, probably as some part of Operation Leprechaun, so they were leaning back against the wide trunk, their bent knees almost brushing. Everything was brown, orange, and red, caused by the leaves falling off the trees. The picture was timed so perfectly that a few leaves had even been caught in motion, swirling above both their heads. One had wound up caught in Niall’s hair, the bright orange blatantly obvious against the blonde. But the varying tones of the picture weren’t really what made it beautiful. 

 

Zayn’s head was thrown back in a laugh, his eyes narrowed into slits as he chortled. One of his hands was pressed against his mouth, and the pushed up sleeve of his cardigan made the various tattoos on his forearm visible. Niall was staring at him fervently, his face glowing. He looked somewhat awestruck as he gazed at Zayn, the faintest blush staining his cheeks red. Niall’s left hand was pressed lightly against Zayn’s bicep, his fingers grazing the ink on his skin, almost reverently. And if Zayn thought back, he could clearly remember the jolt of electricity that mere touch had brought him, and in that moment, he knew Niall had felt it too. 

 

“I told a joke.” Niall said slowly, his voice hushed. “I told a stupid joke and you just lost it. It was my second week here.”

“We look happy.” Zayn mumbled back, biting on the inside of his cheek to quell the goofy smile spreading across his cheeks. “We look really, really happy.”

Niall looked at him with wet eyes, his cheeks pinkening. He cleared his throat and bumped his shoulder against Zayn’s, leaning in quickly and pressing his lips to Zayn’s cheek. Even that soft pressure made Zayn feel the electricity all over again. And then Niall was turning back to Harry, punching him goodnaturedly in the shoulder. 

“Yes, you spaz, put it in the book.” he said with an incredulous shake of his head. “Can’t believe ‘m agreeing, but it is too good not to.”

Harry whooped, throwing his arms up in the air excitedly. He scrambled to retrieve the picture from Zayn, who was somewhat lax to let it go. Harry patted his pockets for a pen, pulling one out and putting a minuscule checkmark on the back of the print. 

“What should the caption be?” he mused, tapping the lid of the pen against his lips. “Anybody have any ideas? Obviously, I’ll respect your privacy, so it won’t be anything like _cutest couple!!!_ (Even though you guys would totally win that, anyway). But I don’t want it to be generic either, like _Friends Zayn and Niall laugh on an autumn day._ Because that wouldn’t be you guys, and I really want the caption to match the picture.”

“Jesus, Harry, I dunno.” Niall said with a giggle, running a hand through his hair and blowing out a breath. “Louis’ the one who’s always scribbling away: he’d be better at this than I would. Why don't you ask him?”

 

Instantly, Niall realized his mistake. His eyes went as wide as saucers as Harry’s smile faltered, his cavernous dimples disappearing back into his skin. At the sound of his name, Louis’ head snapped up, the pencil held behind his ear tumbling down to the floor. He hurriedly slammed his notebook shut and basically sat on it, sliding it under his thigh. 

“Yeah?” he said breathlessly as he leaned down to pick up his pencil, nearly stabbing himself in the eye as he tried to balance it on his ear again. (Part of Zayn wondered if he was aiming). “Am I needed?”

“Uhh, yes!” Harry said quickly, his throat bobbing as he gulped. “Yes, of course, I should’ve asked you earlier….can you look at this picture of Zayn and Ni and come up with a creative caption for it? Yearbook appropriate, of course.”

“No worries.” Louis replied, obligingly leaning forward and taking the offered photograph from Harry’s hand. Their fingers bumped together as he passed it over, and Harry’s hand wound up curled around Louis’ wrist, his thumb right over his pulse. They hastily unfurled their grips, Louis’ hands shaking almost imperceptibly. They didn’t look at each other, Louis fixating his eyes on the picture and Harry on his own feet. 

 

Louis’ distressed features softened as he took in the shot, a half smile growing on his face lopsidedly. He glanced at Zayn and Niall and grinned wolfishly, making a little cooing noise. 

“Ah, bless.” he said, winking at them. “Leyum, take a look.”

Liam looked up from his book and blinked owlishly as the photograph Louis had thrust under his nose. He smiled too, shaking his head at them fondly as he flipped another page over. 

“Absolutely cracked on each other.” he mumbled to Louis, making both Niall and Zayn blush. “They’d known each other about a week when that was taken.”

“Seven whole days, and Niall’s looking at Zayn like a puppy.” Louis said mischievously, reaching over and tousling Niall’s hair. “Just look at the eyes.’

“Listen, Zayn’s not much better.” Liam cut in again, defending Niall. “Look at how hard he’s laughing! Zayn, the school’s residential bad boy, the punk!”

 

_“That’s it!!!!!!!”_

 

Harry, who had been kneeling quietly by the coffee table, suddenly roused himself. He practically flung himself at Louis, scrambling to get the picture back. Louis hurriedly let go, looking alarmed as Harry vibrated with energy beside him. The photographer took the print back and slammed it down on the table, leaning over to Louis again and stealing his pencil. He quickly scribbled something down on the back of the photograph, and then looked up at the rest of them, grinning like a lunatic. Harry’s smile didn’t even waver at the sight of all four of them staring at him worriedly. 

“Don’t you get it?” he said in astonishment. “The caption?”

“No?” Niall said cautiously. “Did somebody think of one?”

“Yes!!” Harry said, his face glowing. “Liam and Louis did, or whatever they said made me think of it, or….okay, whatever, just listen.”

 

Harry paused, calming himself marginally. He handed Louis back his pencil, seeming to debate replacing it where he’d taken it from, but then deciding against it. He twisted around then, unsticking the picture from the surface of the table and holding it out for all of them to look at again. Zayn had just taken in the brilliance of Niall’s pixelated smile for a second time, and then Harry spoke. 

“Puppy and the Punk.”

 

Realization dawned across their faces all at once, Zayn feeling foolish for not having that click sooner. Niall let out a raucous guffaw, pressing a hand to his mouth to cover it. Zayn wanted to tug it away, to let Niall’s joy fill the air and echo all around them. Or he wanted to kiss him and have the sound bolster his own lungs, making him as happy as Niall. Or he wanted to get those words tattooed all over his body, along his ribs, his back, the left side of his chest, the ring finger of his left hand. He didn’t care how much that’d hurt, because the beauty of the words, of Niall himself, would take it all away. 

“Puppy and the Punk.” Zayn said under his breath, testing out the sound on his tongue. Niall either heard him, or felt the breath from his voice graze the nape of his neck, and he twisted around, grinning widely. 

“I love it!” he burbled happily, his eyes shining. But he quickly looked worried again, tilting his head to study his boyfriend. He put a hand to Zayn’s forehead, checking his temperature. 

“Are you alright, petal?” he asked, his voice edged with concern. “You look awfully flushed.”

“I’m- uh- I’m okay.” Zayn stammered, knowing that he was the opposite. He felt like he was gonna pass out, actually. Once again, his heart was pounding like mad, making his chest ache. As his hand moved lower to rest against Zayn’s neck, Niall realized this too. 

“Jesus H. Christ, Zayn, your heart’s going a million miles a minute!” Niall gasped. 

 

_It’s because you’re touching me and we’re the Puppy and the Punk and I don’t know what I’m feeling but I know I never want it to stop because I’m pretty sure you’ve bewitched me and please never set me free._

 

“I think he’s okay, Ni.” Liam said, a trace of an understanding on his face, a knowing glint in his brown eyes. “Maybe a little dehydrated, it’s been getting warmer, and Z never drinks enough anyway. Why don’t you two go to the water fountain or something?”

And because he’s Liam, Zayn knew what he was doing. Zayn wasn’t dehydrated at all: Liam himself had seen him chug an entire Gatorade at lunch today. What he was really doing was giving Zayn an out. A way to leave, a way to escape, and a way to take Niall with him. And Zayn jumped on it. 

 

Quite literally. Zayn jumped to his feet, offering Niall his hands and tugging him up. He sent a quick smile his boyfriend’s way, trying to look reassuring. Niall took Zayn’s left hand in his right, interlocking their fingers and rubbing his thumb over Zayn’s knuckles. He smiled weakly up at him, inclining his head toward the door. 

“Let’s go get you some water, petal.” he said quietly, and Zayn could only nod, following Niall’s lead as he began to walk. He almost trotted after him, and distantly, Zayn started to wonder who was the true puppy here. 

 

They didn’t end up going to the water fountain. 

 

As soon as the two boys reached it, Niall began to slow, but Zayn bounded forward, taking the lead on their walk. His grip on Niall’s hand tightened, if only to stop the trembling of his own. Because he knew exactly where his feet were taking him, even though he hadn’t planned it. He could’ve done this journey blindfolded by now. Zayn was taking Niall to the art room. And, unless Ms. Waverly had rearranged the place within the past three days, then all his art was still on display. 

 

“Where are we going?” Niall asked curiously, trying to slow Zayn down as he strode forward. “Zayn, you missed the fountain, let’s head back, yeah? You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m perfect, songbird.” Zayn babbled, half deliriously. “Perfect, perfect. Let’s just keep walking.”

“Where are we going?” Niall repeated, linking his arm with Zayn’s and leaning into his side. He knocked his chin against Zayn’s shoulder, trying to get his attention. 

“The art room.” Zayn repled nonchalantly, not really looking at his boyfriend. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Niall jolted as he walked, almost tripping over his feet. He let out a small squeak of excitement, looking at Zayn with shining eyes. 

“For real?” he said incredulously. “Really, Zayn?”

 

Zayn leaned down and pressed his mouth to Niall’s shortly, catching his teeth on Niall’s upper lip and tugging it forward. Niall hummed appreciatively into his mouth for a few moments, but then he put his hands on Zayn’s chest, pushing him backward gently. 

“No, no, you’re not distracting me now.” he admonished happily. “Take me to your lair.”

 

_You have no idea how apt that description is_. Zayn thought to himself, wondering if Niall would be looking at him as happily in about ten minutes. 

 

They continued their walk, Niall now just as eager as Zayn had been. They strode through the halls, their legs matching step for step. Zayn could feels nerves building deep in his stomach, making his heart pound ever faster. (He would pass out at some point, he swore to Christ). Sooner than Zayn expected or liked, they’d reached the art room door. Zayn laid his hand on the doorknob, taking a deep breath before he twisted it around. He clenched his jaw tightly, feeling the nerves explode in his gut and spiral up into every nerve of his body. Showing his art to anyone was bad enough: he thought that any artist hated that to some extent. But showing his art to the one person he had no trouble creating was a different fear altogether. 

“Niall.” he said slowly, pausing before he flung the door open. Niall was standing directly behind him, and Zayn didn’t turn around to look at him. “Promise me you won’t hate me after this.”

“I could never hate you, Zayn Malik.” Niall said seriously, leaning in and pressing his lips to the back of Zayn’s neck. He could feel his mouth curve into a wide smile. And then Niall reached over Zayn’s arm, laying his hand on top of his and helping him turn the door handle. Because if there was one thing Niall knew, better that perhaps anyone else, was that some things, you just couldn’t do alone. 

 

Zayn entered first, and then automatically wanted to sprint back out again. His eyes did a quick scan around the room, taking in every art piece in mere seconds. What had at first seemed wildly romantic now seemed downright stalkerish. The room was absolutely plastered with pictures of Niall: seriously, the easels were crammed upon each other. As he stepped forward further into the room, letting Niall enter behind him, Zayn looked down at his hands. Wondering how they’d managed to create all they did. Wondering if they’d feel Niall’s hands entwined with them again. He wondered if his feet would have to run after Niall in a few moments. Or if they’d catch him. 

 

Zayn stepped out of the way so Niall could enter, going to stand by Ms. Waverly’s desk. He leaned his back against it, thinking that he’d probably collapse if he didn’t. He kept his gaze focused intently on the first portrait of Niall he’d ever done, in it’s place at the centre of the room. How fitting that his first portrait was painted right before his first kiss. Zayn looked at the shaky waves of Niall’s hair on the canvas, remembering how miserable he’d been then, and how joyous he was made later. He hoped the same thing could be about to happen right now, but somehow, he doubted it. 

 

Niall walked into the room, a merry smile on his face. He put his arms behind his back, and tipped his chin upward, glancing at Zayn with a mock-snobby look on his face, as if they were viewing an actual art gallery. Zayn smiled back weakly, feeling his hands tremble. Niall became serious again, lowering his chin and beginning to really look at the art. Zayn closed his eyes, mumbling nonsense words under his breath. 

 

Objectively, Zayn knew only a few minutes passed. He knew that it wasn’t a literal eternity that he stood there, listening to the sound of Niall breathing and his untied shoelaces clopping against the floor as he moved from easel to easel. But it felt like goddamn _years_. Zayn drew in a rattling breath, feeling his hands tingle with nervous pins and needles. He shoved them into the pockets of his sweater, finding a hunk of pencil lead and squeezing it tight in his fist. Zayn pressed his lips together tightly to stop them shaking. 

 

“Zayn.” Niall whispered. 

 

The artist didn’t move at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. He stayed standing exactly where he was, his chin ducked down and pressing against his chest. He heard Niall step closer slowly, his stride hesitant. And then Zayn felt Niall’s cold hands cup his cheeks, raising up his head. His thumbs grazed over Zayn’s lips gently, making them part. Zayn couldn’t help but lean into the caress, the chill from Niall’s touch cooling his fevered skin. 

 

“Look at me, Zayn.”

 

So, Zayn did. He opened his eyes slowly, feeling some of his eyelashes clump together. Once his vision was clear, he looked down at Niall. Niall, who was standing right in front of him, but a little bit lower. Always a bit lower: he’d never grow those inches that he wanted to shift the universe with. Niall, standing right in front of him, surrounded by pictures of himself that could never compare. Zayn had thought he’d done a decent job with capturing Niall, in all the various forms that he’d tried, but now he saw that he really hadn’t. Niall was a million times more beautiful that any artistic rendition of him could ever be. Niall, standing there with his blonde hair and his crooked teeth and his pale skin and his ruddy cheeks and his blue eyes, that were suddenly made bluer by unshed tears-

 

Tears. 

 

Niall was crying. 

 

Dread cascaded all around Zayn, filling him from head to toe. Niall was obviously miserable about this, because he’s clearly uncomfortable with all the art. And no fucking wonder really, it’s fucking creepy and weird and Jesus, why didn’t Zayn just draw apples?

 

“I’m sorry.” Zayn blurted out hurriedly, feeling himself blush bright red. “I shouldn’t have brought you here, I shouldn’t have done what I did, I probably seem psychotic now and-”

“Woah, Zayn, calm down!” Niall said, giggling slightly as he scrubbed at his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, nothing at all, I just- I just-”

 

Words seemed to fail Niall. He closed his mouth abruptly and shook his head, staring at Zayn with endearment. He reached up and held Zayn by his cheeks again, tilting his head in to press their foreheads together. Zayn rested his hands lightly around Niall’s shoulders, not wanting to push in case he broke. Niall closed his eyes tighter, two big tears seeping down his cheeks. He let out a shaky breath, seeming to get choked up again. 

“This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me.” Niall breathed, bumping his nose against Zayn’s angular cheekbone. “I never thought- I never imagined- I never would’ve guessed that this was what you were spending all your time doing.”

“Of course it was.” Zayn said hoarsely, finding his voice at last. “How could it not be? I haven’t been able to draw anything else since I met you.”

“Really?” Niall whispered wonderingly, another tear crawling down his cheek. Zayn could only nod. 

“Yes.” he managed to say. “Even back in January, when we weren’t- weren’t talking as much, you’re all I could create. See the painting in the middle?”

Niall twisted around, taking another look at the portrait Zayn’d pointed out. He turned back to the artist and nodded solemnly. Zayn inhaled as he tried to arrange his thoughts into something coherent, into something he wanted to say. 

“That was the first portrait I ever did of you.” he began. “Remember the night you sang for me? I was here right before that, working on it. It’s why I was covered in paint when I arrived at the practice room.”

“You had yellow in your quiff.” Niall said wonderingly, reaching up to tangle his fingers through the locks of dark hair on Zayn’s forehead. “And blue on your cheek.”

“I was surprised you didn’t figure it out then.” Zayn admitted with a small shrug. “It looked like I was trying to cover myself in your colors, cover myself in you.”

“I’m glad I didn’t.” Niall whispered back, his eyes glowing. “This was- this was so much better.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Zayn said worriedly, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “It could be seen as sorta weird, I’ve been worried about that for weeks-”

“Mind.” Niall scoffed, his thumb rubbing against Zayn’s cheek where it was puckered, probably right where the blue paint had been that fateful night. “As if I’d mind. You’ve made me so beautiful so many times over.”

“You do that all yourself.” Zayn said instantly, unable to stop the words. “All on your own.”

“Is that why, then?” Niall asked curiously, tilting his head to the side. 

“Why what?”

“Why you picked me.” Niall said, looking somewhat uneasy. “There’s so many people or things on this beautiful planet you could’ve chosen as your muse, things that’d be easier or get your portfolio accepted faster….so why me? Why am I your muse?”

 

Zayn had never really thought about it. Maybe he hadn’t had the time to, maybe he didn’t think it really mattered, maybe he subconsciously wasn’t letting himself. Whatever the reason, Zayn hadn’t really analyzed his choice of Niall as a subject for his portfolio. It’s just what had felt simplest, what he wanted to draw the most. He’d never really considered the dynamics between artist and muse, the feelings either held within or expressed by the artist as they struggled to create what they truly wanted. A perfect depiction of someone they _knew_ was perfect. 

 

Zayn had never really thought about it. But once he did, he realized that it actually didn’t require much thought at all. It was a single bolt of information fired into Zayn’s mind, electrifying everything else, almost stopping the heart that never seemed to stop racing. 

 

_You’re my muse because I’m in love with you_. 

 

 

Zayn wanted to say it. 

 

He was going to, actually. Looking down at Niall, with his cold hands now resting against Zayn’s chest, feeling his heart pound, it was the only thing that made any sense to say. Niall was staring back up at Zayn, waiting patiently for his response. Zayn took a deep breath, looking around at all the art one more time. He glanced at every single one swiftly, wondering why it’d taken him so long to figure out. Of course that’s what the pounding heart of the last few weeks had meant. It was Zayn’s body telling his brain to catch up. There were so many things he wanted to say. 

 

_I was in love with you when we climbed a mountain together and then ran back down it. I was in love with you when you surfed and I thought I was gonna die if you did. I was in love with you when we visited your mother’s grave and you wanted me there. I was in love with you when we sat beneath an oak tree and cried. I was in love with you when we sat beneath an oak tree and laughed._

 

_I was in love with you when you sang a song about falling. I was in love with you on our first date and we ran around a park like two little kids. I was in love with you when you told me about the stars and your lullabye. I was in love with you when we put stars up on your ceiling and you stayed innocent. I was in love with you at the Secret Santa and you gave me knee and elbow pads, even though I didn’t understand why yet. I was in love with you at New Year’s, oh fuck, I was so in love with you at New Year’s, all because of that fucking song…._

 

_I was in love with you the day everything changed, March 3rd. I was in love with you every day in between, every sleepy morning, every late night. I was even in love with you as you ran into me at that park._

 

_I am so in love with you now. I’m in love with your laughter and your tears. With your freckles, dimples, rosy cheeks, pale skin. Blonde hair and blue eyes and the rainbows I see when you smile. I’m in love with your voice, talking or singing. I love every inch of you, I am privileged to call you mine. I want time to stop so I always can. I am so, so in love with you_. 

 

_You are my muse because I’m in love with you_. 

 

Zayn wanted to say it. 

 

He was going to say it. 

 

But instead, what came out was, 

 

“Will you go to the Seventh Class dance with me?”

 

Niall blinked up at Zayn in shock, a crooked grin spreading across his cheeks. Zayn stared at him intensely, gripping him by the shoulders tight. His entire body was shaking, his realization making him quake, but holding onto Niall made him feel strong. Stronger, anyway. 

“Is that what this is about?” Niall said, evident delight in his voice. “Is that why you made me wait so long to see your portfolio? So you could ask like this?”

“Yes.” Zayn said quickly, deciding to roll with that because at this point, why the fuck not? “And I know I mentioned it like last week, and you weren’t too keen on the idea, but- but we _are_ dating, and I think the night would be so much more- more magical if we went as one another’s dates. I just- really, really want to go with you, because-”

 

Thankfully, Niall’s lips cut Zayn off, since he was about to attempt to say his realization all over again, and who knew what would come out of his mouth a second time? Niall went up on his tiptoes and rammed his lips against Zayn’s hungrily, wrapping his arms around his torso and pulling him ever closer. They stumbled backwards, Niall holding onto Zayn by the tie. Niall’s back hit the edge of a table, sending a tin of pencils flying. Zayn angled his head sharply, deepening the kiss. 

 

Niall’s mouth was so hot. Everything was so hot: Niall’s mouth, his skin, even his hands, for once. Maybe it was the emotion coursing off Zayn that set them both afire. The….the _love_ that seemed to radiate from his very being. Niall put a hand on the back of Zayn’s neck, keeping him firmly in place, and Zayn downright whimpered against his lips. He let Niall move him where he wanted, take what he wanted. Zayn suddenly decided to dip his head, pressing his mouth to the column of Niall’s throat, finding where his pulse was beating against his skin. Neck kissing was always Niall’s favorite thing, and because Zayn loved him, he’d do it whenever. He’d give him _love_ bites whenever. 

“Fu-fuck.” Niall stammered as Zayn worked a bruise onto his neck. He inched his leg forward, between Zayn’s two, increasing the friction between their bodies. Zayn gasped at the heightened pressure, holding himself back from rocking against Niall’s hip by putting even more effort into the bruise. “Yes, I’ll go to the dance with you, _fuck yes_ , I thought you were never going to ask.” 

“I did.” Zayn mumbled, wondering if he could take off Niall’s shirt while kissing him. “I mentioned it last week-”

“Mentioning it isn’t asking, petal.” Niall half gasped, his knees seeming to go weak as Zayn did something particularly wicked with his tongue against his Adam’s Apple. “Wanted to be properly asked.”

“Is this proper enough for you?” Zayn chuckled, putting his arms underneath Niall’s armpits and hauling him up to sit on the edge of the table. Niall nodded and bowed his head into Zayn’s shoulder, his breathing heavy. Zayn pushed a hand through his hair, feeling sweat along his brow. 

“Look at me, baby.” Zayn crooned. Niall was all around, he was everywhere, but Zayn still wanted to see the real thing. Niall shook his head fervently, inhaling sharply. 

“You’re too beautiful, you’re too much for me, you give me too much…”

 

And well, Zayn supposed he could understand that. But if the list were his own, and not Niall’s, there would’ve been one more thing on it. But it could never be a bad thing. 

 

_I love you too much. And maybe I didn’t tell you now, but I’m going to tell you soon._

__

 

Zayn didn’t tell Niall that he was in love with him that day, but he told just about everyone else. 

 

_Louis_

_Lou_

_Tommo_

_Answer your goddamn phone_

_LOUIS I’M IN LOVE WITH NIALL_

 

**Never woulda guessed, mate. It’s not like you look at him like the sun shines out his arse or anything xD**

 

_Liam, when you realized you loved Sophia, did it hit you like a bolt of lightning?_

 

**ZAYN I FUCKING KNEW IT**

**I K N E W IT IN THE STUDENT CENTRE TODAY.**

**IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU HE’S SO LUCKY**

 

_Harry, can I tell you something?_

 

**You’re in love with Niall.**

 

_How the actual fuck????_

 

**How could the Puppy and the Punk not be in love?**

 

Nobody was surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good? Can you tell I had a fever while I wrote it? XD Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Also, I just wanna say thank you to everybody who's still reading this. I went off the radar for like two months, and I know how annoying it can be, to wait for fics to update. Returning to school has been really difficult for me, and I've had a lot of problems in the past two months. But seeing your comments and all your encouragement and love really made me feel better.
> 
> You're all stars <3


	22. Chapter 22

Hey guys......I feel like I've got a lot of explaining to do, to everyone reading this. That's if anyone still is :( 

I know it's been forever since I updated and I feel crazy awful about that, but it's been an intensely hard few months for me. I've been going through a lot and some shit went down in my personal life and I like couldn't physically write for a whole bunch of reasons. I'm really sad about the lull in this fic, because Puppy and the Punk has been my baby for the past year and a half and I've had the ending planned for nearly a year but I just couldn't....I know I sound like a wimp but truly I've been very anxiety-ridden and depressed and my eating has been really off because I get nauseous from anxiety and I just feel like I've failed myself :( I'm actually crying as I write this and I can't really explain why. 

I guess what I'm saying this whole whiny rant for is so I can apologize and ask a question: If I posted more, would you read it? Is there anyone still reading it at all? Idk how my writing is even going to sound, I've been that fucked up lately. It probably wouldn't even be any good anymore. 

I'm just so sorry....

Please let me know your thoughts and if you'd still read Patp. 

You're all stars.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been awhile. 
> 
> I am going to be completely honest here and say that I wasn't completely honest in my last author's note. Probably because I didn't want to face the truth myself. But truth is, around the autumn of 2015, I developed an eating disorder. This was right around the time I stopped updating this fanfiction consistently, because my disorder had totally taken over my life- and my writing -and I no longer had the energy to pursue such things. The year that followed was a dark period in my life, one that I never hope to repeat. 
> 
> I had experienced disordered eating before in my life, having dealt with low self confidence and body issues for many years. But it wasn't until that 2015 fall that things really reached a climax. I honestly wanted to die, to just make the pain stop. So, writing this fic, with content that could be triggering for me, wasn't easy. I often tried, because I thought that finishing it would give me something to strive for and work towards. But it was really, really hard. But what was even harder was admitting to myself that I even had a problem. 
> 
> I don't want to go into details about my disorder and subsequent journey towards recovery. Just know that it was a difficult one, and one that I am still undergoing. Some days are better than others, but I'm learning to take the good with the bad and be grateful for both. Please know that if anyone reading this needs to talk, about eating disorders or anything else, I am always here. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. It wasn't quite what I had planned originally, but well, nothing is anymore XD It was supposed to be longer, but last night I was rereading what I had written and considered posting it, just because I was so antsy. I figured that the readers of "Puppy and the Punk", and myself, had waited long enough for this update, even if it wasn't quite up to par with my usual writing. Please let me know what you think.....I really need it for this one.

“You can do this.”  
“This dance will go great.”  
“You will not throw up.”  
“You will tell Niall you love him tonight.”

As Zayn stared at his ashen reflection in his bedside mirror, he tried to convince himself that all- or any- of these statements were true. Seeing his pale skin, bitten lips, and an eye twitch that had started last night and would _not_ go the fuck away, his felt his confidence wane. Zayn took a deep breath and gritted his teeth together, so tight he felt them grind. He reached down on his bedside table, swiping up the pink tie he’d chosen to wear. Winding it around his neck and through his collar, he tried to tie it into some semblance of a knot, but his hands were shaking too badly. Hanging his head, Zayn bit back a vehement curse before giving in.   
“Mum.” He called helplessly through his closed bedroom door. “Please come help me.”

Tricia came through the door so quickly, Zayn half suspected that she’d been waiting out on the landing for the first sign of his distress. And because every member of the Malik household knew how on edge Zayn was about this whole thing, he figured she’d been waiting there for ages. His mother caught sight of him and stifled an affectionate smile, probably knowing that now was not the time. She walked over to him and took the tie from his loose fingers, rewinding it and tying it correctly. Zayn could feel her trying to catch his eyes beneath her eyelashes, so he resolutely ignored it. Eventually, Tricia clucked her tongue, shaking her head slightly.   
“Nervous?” she asked simply, finishing her work with the tie and smoothing down the lapels of his suit with her workworn palms. Zayn gave a tense nod, swallowing hoarsely. Finally, he met his mother’s warm eyes, feeling the nerves upon his own face.   
“Why, poppet?”   
“Because-“ Zayn started weakly. “Because- what if it doesn’t go well?”  
“By it, do you mean the dance?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Because it’s a bit late for second thoughts, it starts in two hours.”  
“Well, yeah the dance….but I also mean like- _everything_. Like the photographs beforehand, which I still don’t understand why we have to take, or like the car ride over, Niall’s a nervy passenger, for good reason-“  
“I wouldn’t worry about _that_.” His mother said. “I wouldn’t worry about any of it, Zayn. You’re overthinking, love. Forget about the dance for a moment, and just focus on what really matters. You and Niall.”  
“Yeah.” Zayn mumbled, his eyes on the floor. He shrugged off his mother’s lingering hand on his shoulder before turning to look into the mirror. Smoothing down his suit jacket with his hands, he fervently hoped they weren’t sweating too badly.   
“Where’d we even get this suit, Mum?” he asked suddenly, remembering the last time he’d worn it. This was the exact same getup he’d worn when he officially asked Niall out. He hadn’t known where it came from then, and even now, five months later, he still didn’t know.  
“Oh.” Tricia said, grinning mischievously. “I went out and bought it for you the weekend after I first met Niall. I figured you’d been needing a suit for some reason, with him now in your life.”  
“You’re unreal.” Zayn deadpanned, feeling chuckles overtake him despite himself.   
“I was right, wasn’t I?” she retorted quickly, and okay, Zayn had to give her that. He laughed again, shaking his head absentmindedly. He fiddled with his tie one last time, hoping it’s color would match the flower he’d bought for Niall. Earlier in the day, he’d gone back to that same supermarket to buy the exact pink roses that Niall loved so much. The same sweet old lady had checked him out, and to Zayn’s amazement, she’d remembered him. She even asked if he’d ever “managed to woo that sweet Irish boy he’d mentioned, or if this flower was for a different boy,” and she’d been overjoyed when Zayn replied that yes, these flowers were in fact, for that same boy.   
Looking up, Zayn met his mother’s eyes in the mirror. He bit his lip, debating on whether to tell her what he planned to say to Niall tonight. And, realizing that Tricia probably somehow knew anyway, he decided to throw caution to the winds and just get it said.   
“I’m gonna tell Niall I love him tonight.” He said simply, feeling a hint of panic flare up in his chest at the thought. At this, Tricia beamed, her eyes crinkling together in the same way Zayn’s did. She swiftly raised her knuckles to her eyes, surreptitiously wiping away tears that Zayn had known would come. Zayn shifted his weight awkwardly, his smart dress shoes pinching his toes uncomfortably.   
“D’ya think that’s an okay idea?” he mumbled, looking at his feet. Tricia came over to him, putting her hands on his shoulders comfortingly. Her warm brown eyes bored into his as she raised a hand to cup his cheek lovingly, lifting his head to look at her.   
“I think it’s the best idea you’ve had in a while.” She said truthfully. “And also, it’s about time.”  
“Did everyone know I loved Niall before I did?” Zayn asked disbelievingly, feeling exasperated as he remembered his friends’ texts to him once he’d told them all. “Wait, actually don’t answer that, because the answer is yes…. when did you know?”  
“March 3rd.” Tricia said instantly, picking away a speck of lint from the shoulder of his jacket. “I’d never seen you cry so hard, and rightfully so, but…that was the first time I considered that Niall meant more to you than you let on.”  
“Yeah.” Zayn replied, noncommittal. “I mean…I didn’t realize it until a few weeks ago, but…yeah.”  
They lapsed into silence for a few moments, both lost in their thoughts. After a few seconds, Tricia smiled brightly again. Zayn tried to match it with a smile of his own, but he couldn’t quite manage it. Jesus, these pictures were going to be atrocious, with Zayn looking nauseous from nerves in every single one.   
“Any mail today?” Tricia asked nonchalantly, clearly trying to change the subject. But _Christ_ , Zayn didn’t think she could’ve picked a worse one. His mother was, of course, referencing the letter that Zayn was impatiently waiting on from UArts in London. The day after he’d shown Niall his portfolio, he and Miss. Waverly had boxed the entire compilation into a large box, to be shipped overnight (thank you, Fedex) to the university. In the three weeks that passed since then, Zayn had practically haunted the mail slot in their front door. The poor postman probably feared for his life, because it genuinely seemed like Zayn was stalking him. But could you blame him? This was his dream school, and they’d just received a collection of work that bared the rawest parts of his heart. At night when Zayn closed his eyes, he could see Ms. Waverly’s spidery handwriting on the shipment label, in the subject line of the box.   
“ _You and I: A Collection of Art by Zayn Malik._ ”  
Honestly, at this point, Zayn just wanted to know, one way or the other. He just wanted that letter in the mail, either telling him he’d been accepted or rejected. Obviously, he’d have to regroup if he wasn’t accepted, and figure out where his life was going. He’d probably take a year off from school, stay around their town and get some job. Maybe he’d help Ms. Waverly out in art classes sometimes, that’d be cool…  
Who the fuck was Zayn kidding? He has no idea what he’d do if he didn’t get accepted into UArts. Right now, he just figured he’d cross that bridge when he eventually came to it. And hardly anyone else was any better off. Out of his friend group, only Liam and Louis knew what their plans for next year were. Liam, of course, had applied to seven schools months previously and been accepted into every single one. He was pursuing a degree in psychology at the University of Manchester, of all things. Which, Zayn supposed, made a lot of sense. Of any of them, Liam would make the best therapist. He’d told all of them this about a week or two ago, just dropping a bombshell as they discussed when their letters would come in. And Liam, because he’s Liam, had kept it to himself for so long because he hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone else’s feelings.   
Once Liam had told his plans, Louis also then came forward. He was going to stay in their town and attend the local community university for two years, before transferring elsewhere. He figured that it was much cheaper on his family that way, because he’d still live at home, and that way he’d been able to help his mum with his younger sisters. All of this seemed quite characteristic of Louis, really. So Zayn guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised when Louis told them what he planned on studying. English. That notebook he’d been frantically writing in that day in the student center was full of his college application essays.   
And probably quite a few poems about Harry Styles, but Zayn digressed.   
But the other three boys, Niall, Harry, and Zayn? They all still had no fucking clue. Mainly because they were pursuing careers in the arts, which typically took longer to respond. Harry had sent compilations of his personal photography and his work on the school yearbook to multiple universities across England, but his top choice was a college in London. Zayn wouldn’t lie and say that they were all hoping he chose that school, because the next nearest one was in fucking Wales.   
Then, there was Zayn’s fucking travesty of only applying to one, extremely competitive art school, so that only left Niall. He had sent in an online application to the London College of Music a few weeks ago, containing his grades and a personal essay about why he wanted to attend their “prestigious institution”. Along with that, he’d also sent multiple audio files of himself singing acapella, playing guitar/piano/drums/anything else. So, Niall was waiting to hear back if he’d been accepted academically, and also if he’d been called for an audition in the summer….which Zayn knew he’d get. Niall would get the audition and get into the London College of Music, and he’d leave Zayn here to teach nine year olds how to hold a paintbrush… 

“No mail today.” Zayn replied, shaking off his morose thoughts. Tricia pressed her lips together, a brief line of worry appearing between her eyebrows. But as quickly as it’d come, it was gone. His mother smiled a winning smile, one with too many teeth. Then she patted his back comfortingly one more time, with a murmured “I’m sure it’ll come any day now, poppet,” as she slipped out of the room. But as he watched her walk away, Zayn realized that for once, he wasn’t thinking about it. Tonight was not the time to think about his acceptance in UArts. Tonight was not the time to think about all of his friends going their separate ways. Tonight was not the time to think about Niall leaving Zayn in the past. Tonight was not a time to _think_.   
Tonight was the time to tell Niall Horan that he loved him.   
And with that thought, Zayn heard his doorbell ring. 

Heart in his throat, Zayn clopped down the stairs and through the foyer. Rushing to the kitchen, he grabbed the single pink rose he’d left in water on the counter, swiping up the pin he’d need to attach it to Niall’s suit. Hurrying back to the door, he laid a trembling hand on the doorknob, giving himself a few moments to compose himself. Taking a deep breath, Zayn swung the door open, only to be greeted with Niall Horan, holding more sunflowers than Zayn could count.   
“Hello petal.” Niall said happily, his face completely hidden by flowers. “D’ya happen to have a vase I could put these in?”  
“But-but I’ve only gotten you one.” Zayn said stupidly, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth.   
“I know! But I figured these could make up for those roses you got me in January, it was about time I repaid that favor.”  
Zayn nodded slowly, his brain struggling to catch up. Luckily, Tricia now swooped in to save the day. She came up to Zayn’s side, grinning widely.   
“Ah, Niall, aren’t you lovely?” she downright cooed. “Here, I’ll take these from you and put them in some water, let you and Zayn say hello properly.”   
Zayn’s mother fluidly intercepted the bouquet of sunflowers from his boyfriend, giving Zayn as surreptitious wink as she turned and walked back towards the kitchen. Zayn looked up, getting his first good look at Niall. And what he saw made his breath catch in his throat.   
Niall was wearing a simple navy suit, the cut of it framing his shoulders perfectly. It cinched inwards at his narrow waist, being held in place by sleek suspenders that just peeked out from underneath his jacket. He wore a pressed white dress shirt, and a bright yellow tie, probably to match the flowers he’d brought Zayn. The pants of the suit were crisp, clinging to Niall’s legs and posterior in a way that made Zayn’s stomach twist. The legs went right to Niall’s ankle, the bony joint slightly visible. His shoes were black, and so shiny at the toes that Zayn could almost see his reflection in them.   
Zayn’s eyes flicked back up, landing on Niall’s face. And he knew he’d been right to look there last, because Niall’s beauty was now paramount. The navy of the suit brought out the darker blue tones in his eyes, making Zayn want to drown in them all over again. His cheeks were flushed pink, possibly from Zayn’s scrutiny, and he’d recently shaved, because no stubble was visible whatsoever. And finally, his mouth was stretched into a wide smile, showing off the crooked teeth that Zayn adored so much.   
“Oh, you look lovely.” Niall breathed, sounding awestruck as he looked at Zayn with limpid eyes. “Is that the same suit as January, yeah? Christ, back then I didn’t think you could’ve ever looked nicer in it, but wow, you really- _mmph_ ”  
In one smooth movement, Zayn reached over to Niall, slipping his hands inside his suit jacket. Wrapping his fingers around his suspenders, Zayn pulled him in across the threshold of his house and into his waiting arms. He pressed their mouths together quickly, cutting off Niall’s words. Somewhat rude, Zayn knew, but he also knew that if he hadn’t kissed Niall right that second, what he wanted to say later in the night would’ve come tumbling right out.   
Niall’s lips were as soft as they’d looked, melding into Zayn’s like it was second nature. Which, Zayn supposed, it was, at this point. His boyfriend’s skin smelled like cologne, a fresh scent that reminded him of forests in rain. But just beneath that, was the omnipresent aroma of apples. Zayn fought the urge to run his hands through Niall’s blonde locks, knowing it’d mess up his carefully styled quiff.   
Slowly, they broke apart, one of Niall’s hands still resting on the back of Zayn’s neck. He smiled up at him, reaching down to clasp Zayn’s hand, which laid flat against his chest. Zayn felt his heart pound in his own chest, and was happy that Niall couldn’t feel it.   
“You look beautiful.” Zayn said seriously, his eyes boring into his boyfriend’s. Niall flushed happily, biting his lip in mild embarrassment. He peeked up at Zayn from underneath his eyelashes, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders.   
“I tried to clean up well for ya….I don’t look as nice as you, but-“  
“No.” Zayn said, shaking his head forcefully. “I’m sorry songbird, but I’ll have to disagree with you there.”   
“Agree to disagree, then?” Niall whispered back, leaning up to press his lips against Zayn’s quickly, sweetly. Zayn nodded happily, feeling warmth spread through his entire body at Niall’s initiated kiss. Niall dropped back down so he was flat on his feet, grabbing Zayn’s hand and interlocking their fingers.   
“C’mon, petal, let’s go to the kitchen and grab those flowers, we’ve gotta get some pictures of just us before the others get here!”  
Niall began to walk through the house, almost tugging Zayn after him. Zayn let himself be lead, focusing his eyes on Niall’s feet. He practiced forming the words silently, trying to make them come out without getting caught in his throat, trying to make them as perfect as Niall deserved. He practiced all the way down the hallway, the whispers falling into time with Niall’s footfalls against the floorboards.   
_I love you  
I love you  
I love you_

Once they’d gotten their respective flowers, Tricia ushered Zayn and Niall outside, her camera gripped tight in her hand. Zayn’s entire family and Bobby Horan had all accumulated out there, waiting on the bottom step for them. Nearly every single person had a mobile phone clutched in their hands, everyone ready to snap some photographs. Zayn could already feel the ache in his cheeks from smiling too much. But as he looked at the boy beside him, Zayn figured it wouldn’t be a problem.   
“Okay, boys,” Tricia called from her position on the path leading up to the house. “Stand on the step, and pin your flowers to each other’s suits, and I’ll take pictures of it. Then we’ll do some actual posed shots.”  
“Sounds great, Tricia!” Niall called back. He turned to look at Zayn, holding a single sunflower with a pin in the air. “I will do my utmost not to stab you… just don’t wriggle too much.”  
Zayn burst out with a bark of laughter, and okay, yeah, he wouldn’t have a problem smiling this entire time. 

The couple took pictures for about half an hour by themselves, in multiple places. They eventually moved away from the step to standing underneath a willow tree in Zayn’s front garden. Thankfully, it was a sunny day, which was downright amazing for this time of year in England. As Zayn looked at the boy standing beside him, blinking the sunlight out of eyes, he felt his heart swell in his chest. At the beginning of this year, Zayn never would’ve imagined that he’d have a date to this dance, much less a _boyfriend_ to bring. He figured that if he went at all, he would’ve gone stag, being the awkward fifth wheel with Liam and Sophia and Louis and Harry. He would’ve spent the night scorning the cheesy couples and avoiding eye contact with any desperate singles on the dance floor. He would’ve congratulated himself on remaining unattached.   
And yet, here Zayn stood. Posing with Niall, someone he called his own. The pink tie around Zayn’s neck matched the color of the flower on Niall’s lapel. Every single photograph that Tricia took signified their status as a couple, ranging from a classic pose of Niall standing in front of Zayn with their arms around each other, to a candid photograph of Niall throwing his head back and laughing at something Zayn had said. But there was one photograph that Zayn noticed that they didn’t have, and suddenly- desperately- he wanted it.   
“Mum?” Zayn called suddenly, catching his mother’s attention as she was placing the shutter cover over her camera lens. “One more, yeah?”  
His mother obligingly got the camera ready, pointing the lens at the couple one last time. Zayn turned to look at Niall, seeing the excitement glimmering in his eyes. Zayn cupped one hand to Niall’s cheek, rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone. Niall leant into the gentle touch, closing his eyes blissfully.   
“Alright if I kiss you?” Zayn asked breathlessly. “For the camera and everythin’?”  
“Always, petal.” Niall replied, keeping his eyes closed. “Always.”  
Zayn leaned down, closing the distance between them. Distantly, he heard his family’s reaction, hearing his sisters whoop and his father wolf whistle. He could even hear Mr. Horan’s surprised, booming chuckle. But in that moment, Zayn couldn’t find it within himself to be embarrassed. He kept kissing Niall as Tricia took pictures, freezing the moment in place. He kept kissing Niall, tasting the _Always_ still on his lips. 

“If I take one more photo, I will go blind from the flash.” Louis muttered under his breath. “How do celebrities do it?”  
Zayn bit back a chuckle at his friend’s words, knowing he had a point. His other mates had arrived about forty-five minutes ago, with all of their parents. This had led to another deluge of photography, getting the boys into as many pictures possible together. Harry seemed to have inherited his knack for photography from his mother, because she was now seemingly in charge, even holding her son’s own precious camera.  
The boys were standing in a line on Zayn’s front lawn. Zayn and Louis were in the middle, arms firmly around each other. Liam was on Zayn’s left side, then with Harry on the very far left. And Niall was on Louis’ right: Zayn could see him straining not to be the shortest from where he stood. Overall, it was a good arrangement, and one that thankfully kept Louis and Harry far enough away from each other.   
Nobody had really mentioned the elephant in the room: the fact that Louis and Harry were with two couples (Sophia had accompanied Liam to this picture session after they’d privately taken some at her house, and was now patiently waiting for her date with his family). It was glaringly obvious that the two boys weren’t each other’s dates, given how they tried to avoid each other at every opportunity.   
“You doing okay with this, man?” Zayn asked, in a break between photos.   
“With what?” Louis said tensely, his eyes still on the cameras. But Zayn felt how his grip on his shoulders had tightened.   
“You know what, Tommo.” Zayn mumbled under his breath, slightly chucking his chin in Harry’s direction. “Harry.”  
“Oh.” Louis said through his forced smile. “Yeah. Well, no. But there’s nothing to be done.”  
“There’s always something to be done.” Zayn muttered back.   
“You do remember Ireland, don’t you? In which he said “alright” and essentially gave up?” Louis replied, and Zayn knew he wasn’t imagining the annoyed edge to his voice. Well, fuck that. Zayn was still going to try and get Louis’s head out of his ass. Tonight might be one of his last opportunities.   
“Yes, I do, and so do you, which might mean that tonight is crucial.”

“Okay, boys!” Anne called, ending their Louis and Zayn’s conversation. “Why don’t we do couples next?”  
It was like a switch had been flipped in the group. Whatever air of joviality there’d been earlier was now gone as all five of them realized the severity of her words. Louis stiffened automatically at Zayn’s side. He fixated his eyes on Zayn’s face, pressing his lips together so they didn’t tremble. He was resolutely staring at Zayn, keeping his gaze firmly away from Harry. Looking discreetly over Louis’ shoulder, Zayn saw that Harry was doing the exact same thing, keeping his eyes on his feet, shuffling them from side to side.   
“Actually, Miss. Anne,” Liam said back, because someone still knew how to react like an adult. “Sophia and I got pictures earlier, but thank you so much for the offer!”  
“Us too!” Niall burst out, probably trying to help. “Me and Zayn- we’re good too!”

Zayn heard Louis huff out a sigh of relief. He slowly turned his head to look at Harry, his shoulders slumping marginally. And then he looked back at Zayn, his face hard with pain. But his blue eyes were glinting with something Zayn hadn’t seen in them in a long time: Determination.   
“What do you think I should do?” he asked Zayn, biting his lip hard. Zayn thought about it for a long moment, trying his best to advise. Obviously, he thought Louis should tell Harry exactly how he felt, as quickly as possible, before they wasted any more time. But clearly, Louis wasn’t able for a gesture for as big as that. And Harry might not receive it well, on a night where so many emotions were already in play. Whatever Louis did, it would have to be subtle enough to not raise Harry’s red flags, but big enough to symbolize something. 

“It’s a dance, isn’t it?” Zayn asked, with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.   
“Yeah?” Louis replied, raising his eyebrows. “And?”  
“Ask him to dance.”

Once the photographs were finally over, Zayn rejoined Niall’s side, reaching for his hand and interlocking their fingers. They walked over to the parents together, where Mr. Horan and Tricia were having an animated discussion. They fell silent as the boys approached, both with matching smiles on their faces. Mr. Horan reached forward to shake Zayn’s hand, his gentle blue eyes appraising him kindly.   
“Don’t you look smart, Mr. Malik.” He teased good naturedly and Zayn chuckled, feeling a pleased blush heat up his cheeks. He was glad that Niall’s father approved of him. He felt lucky, even. Not many parents would’ve been happy to see Zayn on their son’s arm, given the punkish aura he exuded, but Mr. Horan had accepted Zayn from the moment he met him.   
But then Bobby looked at his son, and he suddenly only had eyes for him. He gazed at Niall lovingly, his eyes wet. And Zayn wasn’t surprised by what left his mouth next.   
“Your mother would’ve loved this, Nialler.”   
Niall gave a small smile, his own eyes glimmering with unshed tears. But he didn’t let them fall. Instead, he reached for his father, pulling him into a hug. Niall gave himself over to the embrace, hooking his chin onto his dad’s shoulder and resting his forehead into the crook of his neck.   
“I know, Dad.” Niall said simply, his voice strong. “I know.”  
Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Zayn turned his back to give them a few moments of privacy. He made quick eye contact with his mother and took a few steps toward her, a question on his lips.   
“Okay, Mum.” He began. “Can I have the keys for the van? We talked earlier in the week about me driving everybody, but I just wanted to check it was still cool. It’s just that it’s the only vehicle that’s big enough to fit all of us, so-“  
“Actually, Zayn.” His mother began, fighting a grin. “You can’t drive the van.”  
“What?” Zayn blurted out, suddenly panicked. “Mum, c’mon, how are we all supposed to get there? I can’t drive me and Niall on my bike, we’d be absolutely destroyed by the time we got there and-“  
“Remember earlier how I said you wouldn’t have to worry about the drive over?”  
“Well, yeah, but I didn’t realize that meant _Zayn, you’re not driving at all_.”  
“Just look at the end of the driveway, love. It should be here by now.”

Turning on his heels, Zayn did as his mother said and looked down onto his street, squinting to see better (he definitely wasn’t wearing his glasses tonight). But when he could finally see Tricia was talking about, he did a double take, because no _fucking_ way.   
They’d rented them a limo. 

“Mum,” Zayn said, his voice strangled. “What- you didn’t- Mum, how much did that cost?”  
“Don’t worry, pet.” Tricia said, her eyes glinting with merriment. “All of the parents chipped in together to cover it, we all wanted you boys to have a great night. Plus, we figured no one person should have to worry about the driving.”  
Suddenly, it clicked. Zayn gave a single nod, feeling the understanding dawn across his face. He shot a quick glance Mr. Horan’s way where he was still talking with Niall, before looking back at his mum.   
“Mr. Horan’s idea?” Zayn asked, and Tricia nodded quickly.   
“Just enjoy it, love.” She advised. “Don’t worry.”  
Zayn took her words to heart, feeling a giddy smile spread across his cheeks. He looked at the limousine waiting for them, black paint shining in the setting sun.   
“Boys,” he called, cupping his hands to his mouth to amplify his voice and get his friends’ attention. “I think we have a dance to get to.”  
They rushed down the driveway together, couples falling into step. Liam obligingly held up the end of Sophia’s bright red dress as she walked, keeping it out of the grass. Niall and Zayn simply walked side by side, their shoulders brushing. Niall was practically skipping with his excitement, clapping his hands together a few times.   
“This is absolutely class, isn’t it?” he burbled. “Oh Zayn, we’re going to have so much fun!”  
They reached the limousine as a group, Louis pulling open the side door and ushering them all inside. Liam and Sophia climbed in first, everyone being carefully to avoid her long dress. It’d probably cost more than all of their suits put together, so Zayn understood the caution. Harry went next, his camera in hand despite the excitement. But Zayn could understand. At an event as big as this, Harry couldn’t help himself but to take pictures. Niall went next, tugging Zayn in behind him. Zayn bumped into Niall’s side as he landed in his seat, laughing so hard it hurt his ribs. Niall threw an arm around his neck, pressing a quick kiss into Zayn’s hair. Zayn shut his eyes at the gentle caress, letting himself enjoy it for a moment.   
The moment was broken as Louis climbed into his seat, slamming into Zayn’s other side. He quickly clapped his hands together a few times, getting everyone’s attention. Reaching forward into a small minifridge in front of their seats, he pulled it open, revealing a bottle of wine. Producing glasses seemingly out of nowhere, Louis passed them out, a wide grin on his face.   
“Lads,” he boomed. At Sophia’s face, he chuckled, inclining his head into her direction. “And lovely lady! We could potentially have the night of our damn lives. Hell, we could peak tonight. No night might ever compare. With that sobering revelation, I say we propose a toast.”  
“Has literally everyone forgotten I’m underage?” Niall sputtered disbelievingly as Louis adeptly opened the bottle of wine and poured some into their plastic glasses. “Even my own dad?”  
“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t wanna, songbird.” Zayn said reassuringly, putting a hand on his spine. “Pour it into mine when no one’s lookin’.”   
Niall pressed a sloppy kiss against Zayn’s cheek, and the artist shut his eyes, loving how affectionate his boyfriend was being. As Niall giggled into his ear, Zayn shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He felt drunk already. Drunk off the atmosphere, drunk off Niall, drunk off love.   
“A toast!” Louis said once everyone had a drink. He thrust his glass up into the air, and everyone joined him, clicking them together into a glorious symphony. “A toast to…”  
Here, Louis paused, eyes moving around to look at all of them. He spent a few moments on each of their faces, blue eyes huge and emotional. Zayn saw him look at Liam, a proud smile spreading across Louis’s face at the sight of his friend, totally enamored with the girl at his side. Zayn saw him look at Niall, endearment in his every feature. He saw him look at Zayn himself, two best friends, their eyes meeting in understanding. And finally, he saw him look at Harry, lingering there for a few moments longer than everyone else, a trace of sadness in his smile.   
“A toast to this not being the end.” Harry finished for Louis, his deep voice rumbling in the clamor. The photographer quickly raised his glass to his lips, knocking the wine back before he could regret it, and everyone followed suit. As Zayn finished his drink, Niall quickly slipped the empty glass out of his fingers, replacing it with his full one. Zayn caught his eye and Niall winked impishly, holding a finger to his lips. Zayn willingly drank again, feeling the alcohol burn his throat as it went down, in the best imaginable way.   
“Sir,” Zayn called, leaning forward so the driver could hear him. “To the dance, please!”  
Zayn sat back into his seat, feeling his head spin. It might’ve been from the wine he’d just consumed, but honestly, Zayn thought it was just from how happy he was. Everyone was bathed in a soft light, from the glitzy lights shining above their heads. Everyone was laughing, smiling, happy. Zayn wanted to bottle this moment and live in it forever. And as the driver pulled away from the curb and towards the Seventh Class dance, Zayn prayed that this wasn’t the end too.


End file.
